


Bite The Hand That Feeds You

by sweaterbarnes



Series: Wise Enough To Stand Together [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Assault, Bucky Barnes-centric, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roommates, Slow Build, Veteran!Steve, baker!Steve, brief bedsharing, homeless!bucky, moderate dehumanization, some fluff I swear, the OCs are homeless as well, werwolf!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:03:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterbarnes/pseuds/sweaterbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is a werewolf who escapes the Alpha who's held him captive for eleven years. On his way back to himself he finds Joey and Lacy, twins living on the street to survive, and Steve Rogers, a veteran who runs a bakery with his best friend Natasha Romanoff. With their help will he finally be safe or will he end up right back where he started? </p><p>Or the one where a homeless guy stole Steve Rogers' muffins and changed his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> This my fic for the stucky big bang and oh goodness has it taken some time to put together! I started writing in January and I'm still not quite finished but the majority of this fic has already been written so updates should hopefully be frequent :)
> 
> Each chapter will alternate between Steve and Bucky's POV and each chapter will be titled accordingly. Bucky's chapters start with a flashback to his past in italics but each flashback moves forward in time and they will stop when they catch up to the rest of the story. 
> 
> The OCs will be pretty heavily involved in the story so I hope y'all like them! With that, and a reminder to heed the tags, I'll leave you to it. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: My wonderful, amazing artist [bunnymaccool](http://bunnymaccool.tumblr.com/)just posted [her art](http://bunnymaccool.tumblr.com/post/147674231812/so-this-is-the-first-piece-of-artwork-ive-done) for this story so please go check it out and give her some well deserved love!

~~~~~~

_“Ma!” Bucky screamed, fighting against the iron grip on his arms. His mother lay unconscious in the dirt, blood slowly oozing from a long gash along her hairline._

_“Shut it,” a man hissed in his ear. “She’s gone and if you don’t stop whining you’re gonna join her.” Bucky sobbed harder, weakly pushing at his hands to get them off him._

_“Rumlow!” Another man strolled into view, hands in his pockets as if there wasn’t a woman bleeding out on the ground behind him. “Don’t threaten the child, I don’t want him going into shock before we get him to base.”_

_“He’s already halfway there, Alpha. I don’t think I’m doing him any more damage by roughing him up a little. ‘Sides. Kid’s gonna need to toughen up to keep up with us.” At this the hand on Bucky’s arm twisted it and his skin felt like it was being peeled off. Bucky whimpered._

_“Rumlow,” the other man snapped, voice low and impatient. A faint growl colored his words and Bucky instinctually flinched back at the same time as Rumlow bowed his head and let go of his arm. Rumlow stepped back to join a few other men in dragging his mother over to where his sister and father lay in a heap by the door to their home and Alpha crouched in front of Bucky. Bucky wrapped his arms around himself, unsure of what to do. If he ran Rumlow might kill him but if he stayed Alpha might kill him. There was no good answer so he stood there, confused and in pain. “I hope you understand, this had to be done. We couldn’t just let your father get away with hunting us, don’t you see?” Alpha reached out and laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It was obviously meant to be reassuring but his grip was too tight for comfort - a warning. He smiled and took a lock of Bucky’s sweat-soaked hair in between his fingers, twirling it thoughtfully as he studied him. Cold blue eyes met his and Bucky bit his lip, looking away. “Well,” he tugged sharply on Bucky’s hair and stood up, wiping his hand off on his pants, “I’m sure you’ll warm up to me in time.” He walked back into the woods, towards a large truck they’d parked just out of view of the road._

_Bucky trudged after him, but only after Rumlow pushed him forward, hard. He stole one more look at his family’s cabin just in time to see one of the men toss a torch inside. He choked back another sob as the flames licked up the sides of the building, the dry wood catching easily. The last thing he saw as he was bundled into the truck was the fire reaching his family where they lay dead on the forest floor._

~~~~~~

There were times Bucky regretted setting up camp in a damp alley and this was one of them. Snow weighed down the cuffs of his jeans and the plastic trash bags he had wrapped around his cardboard "sleeping mat" was doing extremely little to keep the cold from seeping into his bones. He shivered and hunkered even further down into his bulky clothes. Even with a long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, and thick jacket on he was freezing. On the other side of the alley Joey and Lacy were huddled up in their sleeping bags, heads bent together to block out some of the cold. 'At least they're warm,' he thought bitterly. He considered joining them but it was too cold and he knew they wouldn't want to move to make room for him.

His backpack was kept safely dry in a separate trash bag and he reached in, pulling out a small necklace and ducking his head so he could loop the leather cord around his neck. He dropped the pendant under his collar and flinched when the icy metal wolf touched his skin. It warmed soon enough and he pressed a hand across it, falling asleep with the pendant safely against his heart and head buried in the crook of his elbow.

~~~~~~

“Hey man, get the fuck up.” 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked, shaking Joey’s hand off him and sitting up.

“Lacy’s radio’s calling for a blizzard, we gotta move.”

“Shit,” Bucky hissed, pulling his bag out of its protective plastic bag and patting his chest to make sure the pendant was still there before following Joey who was already on his way out of the alley.

Any time the weather got too bad Joey, his twin Lacy, and Bucky would make their way a few blocks over to where a few old, crowded apartment buildings sat unused by everyone but them. They would stay there permanently but the risk of getting caught by the police was too high and Bucky really didn’t want anything about his whereabouts becoming public knowledge.  Tonight they hurried, the first snow already falling.

Bucky was the first over the rusting chain-link fence that loomed in front of the back door, tossing his bag over the top with a practiced swing and leaping after it, catching himself on the metal. He hooked his arm over the fence and pushed himself over, falling the rest of the way and landing in a crouch. Dusting himself off, he looked and caught Joey at the tail end of what could have been a nasty tumble. His knees were bent over the top of the fence and the rest of him was dangling, flailing arms scrabbling for purchase. Finally, his fingers wrapped around the metal and, in an impressive display of control, swung his legs over his head and dropped to the ground. At least it was impressive until he landed wrong and half stumbled, half rolled his way to a stop.  Bucky snorted and shook his head.

“You tried, pal.”

“Shut the hell up, asshole.”

“Incoming, boys!” Lacy shouted, her satchel landing far too close to Joey’s head for comfort. Joey complained. Loudly. “Oh, you’re fine.” Lacy shimmied her way down the fence and hopped off, falling the last few feet. Hands on hips, she gave them both an exasperated look. “Can’t you two just use the fence like a normal person?” They both shook their heads, Joey adding a fervent, “Where's the fun in that!”

 Scooping up her bag, Lacy led the way into the crumbling building. Bucky pulled Joey up and dragged him inside, ignoring his very vocal objections to being manhandled.

~~~~~~

The heat that got trapped in the rooms always surprised Bucky no matter how many times they moved in for the night. Warm air surrounded them like a comforting blanket, inviting them into the dark room. Lacy snapped an old chair from the hallway into pieces and tossed them into the fireplace that graced the far right wall. Pulling a lighter out of her bag she set to work setting the dry wood alight while Bucky hauled a musty mattress into place against another wall, dumping a few of the blankets they had collected over the years and stored in one of the closets on it. Joey murmured happily and wrapped himself in one, shuffling to sit next to Lacy as the fire came to life. Their bright red hair and green eyes glowed in the firelight, giving them a somewhat otherworldly look. Bucky settled down on the mattress, rifling through his notebook to check the calendar. A jerkily drawn chart of the lunar cycle filled the last page. He ran his finger down the page, past the old and new tick marks that sat under each phase of the moon until he reached the end. The last phase marked was waxing gibbous with a note in capital letters beside it that read: _full moon tomorrow_. He double-checked to make sure and slammed the notebook shut, throwing it across the room in frustration. It hit the wall with a smack and slid down to the floor, coming to rest in a pile of peeled paint and fallen plaster. Of course the full moon would come during a blizzard, the only time he couldn’t get away with just disappearing for the night. It wasn't like he could shift with the twins around, that was definitely not a conversation he ever wanted to have.

“Whoa! Chill!” Joey exclaimed, hands stuck out in an attempt at a placating gesture. Lacy swallowed nervously at the sudden change in atmosphere, gaze flicking between the book and Bucky. Her heartrate sped up and pounded in his ears.

“I need to go, don't set anything else on fire,” he said, deciding to just book it and deal with the consequences later.  He tried to make his voice sound as threatening as possible, letting just a hint of a growl slip in for added impact. They watched in stunned silence as he stuffed the notebook into his bag and stomped out of the room.

“Sure, great, do what you need to. Lacy and I’ll just stay here with the nice, toasty fire to keep us warm. If you want to freeze your balls off-” Joey called down the stairs after him. 

“We can’t just let him go out there! Joey, he’ll die in the snow and we’ll be stuck alone together for the rest of our lives, I don’t know about you but that does _not_ sound ideal.” Joey grumbled quietly in what Bucky assumed was agreement. “Wonderful. Now give me the blanket and get him before he gets too far.” The door opened and shut and Bucky could hear Joey’s pounding footsteps as he rushed down the stairs. Bucky practically jumped down the last flight and vaulted over the fence, the snow softening the landing.

Bucky was dusting snow off his pants and zipping up his jacket when Joey busted his way out into the snow, scanning the area for Bucky. Spotting him, he shouted, “C’mon, man, just come back inside! I don’t know what's going on but you need to come back, you’ll freeze!” Bucky shook his head and started off towards the road.

 “Why tonight?” Joey yelled, confusion evident in his voice. Bucky pushed the guilt he felt at leaving them alone down and picked up the pace. If he wanted to reach the edge of the city by nightfall he’d have to run.

~~~~~~

Bucky made it to the docks with minutes to spare, the shift already taking hold. Warehouses towered above him and he shoved the bay door up enough for him to slip inside before letting it fall shut with a clang. The warehouses always felt cavernous in the dark, any noise echoing in the empty space. He felt like he could walk for what seemed like miles before hitting anything. He carefully pushed his bag into a corner, stripped to save the clothes from any more damage, and stumbled out into the wide-open space. Dropping to his knees on the cold floor he bowed his head and fisted his hand against his thighs.

 He rolled his neck and bared his teeth, face twisted in a pained grimace. No matter how many times he shifted he felt the same kind of gut-wrenching pain every time.  Rough concrete caught and tore at his knees as he jerked and twitched, trying to hold out as long as he could. He fell forward, caught himself with his arm, and rocked back, his claws scraping on the floor. Back bowed, he curled into himself and let out a low whine as the pressure built. His face burned where the fur was coming through as the sound of cracking bones filled the air and his arm and legs twisted at impossible angles, hand and feet shrinking and rounding into paws. Fur erupted from his back with a sickening ripping sound, every nerve lighting up like it was on fire. He jerked one last time and it was over just as quickly as it had begun. In Bucky’s place stood a large, grey wolf. Silver eyes glinted in the darkness as he paced, shaking his fur out, trying to get it to settle properly.

The rest of the night was spent pacing the warehouse, growling. The urge to run, the wolf’s urge to run, was overwhelming. It howled and clawed its way through the last shreds of Bucky’s control and when he shifted back the walls, doors, and floor were covered in fresh slashes that bisected hundreds of older claw marks. He dressed quickly and slipped out into the dim, early morning light. He stubbornly ignored the red scratches left on his hands from pulling at the newly shredded metal of the door.

After making his way through snow that threatened to spill into his boots for a few blocks he found a small bakery, tucked away in between a clothing store and a bookshop. A short man with scruffy dark hair and dressed in a thick coat exited the bakery’s side door and disappeared down the street. Bucky waited until he was gone and ran to the door. His hopes fell when he saw an electronic lock but he tried it anyway and cheered internally when the door swung open.

He had somewhere warm to sleep tonight.

~~~~~~


	2. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more light-hearted than...pretty much the rest of the story so have fun!

 

~~~~~~

 “’Beep beep’ to you too, asshole.” The lock whirred in response and gave another high-pitched beep when Steve punched in his code for the fifth time. “I swear to _god_ I am replacing you tomorrow.” He very slowly and deliberately entered his code again, pressing each button as hard as he could. _1-0-7-4-0_.  It was silent for a minute before chirping and clicking. “Finally!” he muttered, pushing the door open.

Stepping inside the warm bakery he rolled his eyes at the stacks of boxes that still, months after moving in, lined the hallway that led into the kitchen and edged his way past them, pressed against the wall to avoid knocking any over.  Having safely evaded any disasters he dropped his backpack just inside his office door and got to work readying everything for the coming day.

He flicked on all the lights before moving to the closet where they kept all of their plates, cups, and silverware. Most of the tables were still set since last night had been exceptionally slow so he only grabbed a few sets of dishes. He hurried around the room, practically throwing them onto the empty tables. He had about half an hour until Natasha arrived and the last time he hadn’t finished everything on time she had given him The Look. Today’s goal was simple: avoid The Look at all costs. One rendezvous with a duster, rag, and the vacuum that kept trying to eat his shoelaces later he was done.

From his vantage point by the front door he surveyed the room, checking that the tables were straight and nothing was obviously amiss. It was all in order except…he frowned, stepping closer to get a better view. By the corner, in the booth that was so cramped hardly anyone sat in it, what looked like the edge of a sneaker was poking out. He approached the booth and more of the sneaker came into view. It was attached to a foot that was attached to a ratty jean-clad leg that was attached to a thin man with long,  dark, and greasy hair that covered his face but failed to hide all of it. He was also fast asleep and snoring softly, one arm wrapped tightly around what looked like a bag. 

Leaning over, Steve lowered his head until his face was right next to the man’s and shouted, “Hey!” The man shrieked in surprise and rolled off the seat. Unfortunately there was a table in his way so, instead of landing on his feet, he hit the ground with a hard thump and let out a guttural groan, curling into himself as much as he could. Steve bit his lip and nudged the guy’s foot. Nothing. He nudged his foot again, harder this time. No response.

“You okay down there?”

“I’m fucking _dandy_ ,” he said after a moment, voice raspy from apparent disuse.

“I’m glad to hear it. Now get up and walk your “dandy” ass out of here and I probably won’t call the cops,” Steve said cheerily. Well, that certainly got his attention. In two seconds flat the man was out from under the table and halfway across the bakery, a knapsack that looked about a minute shy of falling apart hiked up on his shoulder. Steve snorted, watching as he fumbled to unlock the door and get out. He could hear his sneakers slapping on the sidewalk as he sprinted, actually _sprinted_ , away.

Shaking his head Steve started methodically checking all the windows and doors for damage. None of the windows were broken and he remembered locking them before he left. He personally locked the front door every night and was usually the last one out. The only other way in was the back door. Cursing he stomped outside, snow crunching under his boots, and shut the door, waiting for the two clicks that signified it had locked. There was silence for about five minutes until it finally clicked.

“God _dammit._ I told Tony to fix you a month ago!” He kicked the wall in frustration. “And now we have random homeless guys breaking in at night, Jesus Christ.” He sighed and leaned against the wall, drained before his shift even started.

“Now we have what?” Steve jumped and spun around, shifting back in the face of The Look.

“Now we have a, um, cold hallway,” he said. Natasha looked him straight in the eye, eyebrow raised, and snorted quietly before turning and going inside.  He sighed in relief and his shoulders slumped on the exhale. He loved her, he really did, but she had an uncanny ability to make him feel uncomfortably exposed without saying a word. Six years in the army together and ten years of friendship and she still terrified him.

When he finally came back inside she was standing in front of the pantry with her arms crossed. “Steve.”

“Natasha.”

“Please tell me why some of the muffins I made last night are gone. I trust it wasn’t you.” Checking for himself he saw where the plastic wrap covering the muffins had been lifted, admittedly very carefully, and groaned, letting his forehead fall until it hit the wood of the doorframe with a soft thunk. They stood there in silence, the loose plastic wrap on the corner of the tray silently taunting him.

“Shit,” he said quietly.

“Did the cold wind steal my muffins, Steve?” He said nothing. “Right. The second Tony puts one foot in this building you make him fix that lock. It’s my turn to bake today so I’m going to go start on more muffins, you check the lockbox to make sure the… _wind_ didn’t steal anything else.” She grabbed her apron off the hook and disappeared into the kitchen. Steve pushed himself off the doorframe and went to his office, rifling through his drawers until he found where he’d put the lockbox. All the money was still there and the lock looked intact. Relieved, he put it back and sank into his chair, jeans rasping along the old, cracking leather of the seat.

Maybe, if he was lucky, the rest of his week would go better than this.

~~~~~~

He was not lucky.

~~~~~~

A few days later Natasha called him out of the kitchen. “Steve! Look what came in with the wind!” Confused, he pushed the cookies in the oven and went to join her behind the counter. She was leaning on the glass display case with her chin under her hand and a knowing smirk playing on her lips as he approached.

“What’s up?” he asked, voice trailing off as the face of the homeless guy from before came into view. “Oh.”

“He wanted to speak to you specifically so I’m going to go check on my,” she directed a pointed glance at the guy before walking away, “muffins. Have fun, you two.” At least he had the decency to look guilty, shifting nervously in place. Now that he could take a good look at him he looked, to be frank, like shit. He was thin enough that his cheekbones jutted out from his cheeks in sharp, dangerous lines, exaggerating his features so they were gaunt where they had been striking, and he obviously hadn’t bathed properly in quite a long time. Bright, slightly unfocused, blue eyes tracked Steve’s every movement. His clothes were ragged and smudged with streaks of dirt that Steve was sure would never come out. He swallowed down any concern he might have voiced, determined not to feel sorry for a thief, and made himself look as imposing as possible. Steve crossed his arms and glared at him, assuming the position that used to make the new recruits quake in their boots.

“I wasn’t kidding about the cops.” The guy twitched, right hand clenching into a fist and, _oh_. Steve had missed that.  The left sleeve of his dingy, brown jacket hung limply against his side, empty fabric where there was usually an arm.  Maybe he was a veteran too? Steve blinked in surprise before looking back to the guy’s face and saying, “I’m gonna guess you knew that.” The guy nodded, hesitating then reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few crumpled ten dollar bills.

“For the muffins.” The bills were suddenly right in Steve’s face, shaking in time with the guy’s hand. Steve gently took them and folded them up, turning away to put them in the register.

“Thank you,” Steve said genuinely when he turned back around but the guy was gone. A few customers glanced out the door in vague curiosity at the quickly retreating figure with shoulders hunched against the cold.

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all catch the reference in the door code? ;)


	3. Bucky

~~~~~~

_Bucky’s first shift was pure agony. His entire body felt like it was being pulled apart and all the others just stood back and watched. They hadn’t even waited for the full moon for his first shift, they had just forced it on him, pushed and pushed until he hit his limit and then his world lit up in pain. Each individual bone cracked and ground against another, setting his skin aflame as he groaned and cried on the cold floor of Alpha’s basement._

_“Aw, Pup. What’s the matter? Overwhelmed?” Rumlow taunted, crouching right in front of Bucky’s face. Rough hands with just a hint of claw grabbed his chin and forced him to look at Rumlow. Bucky snarled at spit in his face. He just laughed and wiped it away. The claws dug into the skin of his cheeks and then his head was slammed into the cement with a sickening crunch. Bucky howled and tried to claw at Rumlow’s ankles but he just danced away, taunting him._

_“Let him be,” Alpha said. His voice sounded bemused and Bucky howled again, furious. Rumlow walked away, falling into place next to Alpha and Bucky stared hard at his hands. Watched them warp into disfigured imitations of paws, fingers bending back at too-sharp angles and nails elongating into wicked points. The world narrowed before imploding as the shift finished. As he lay panting on the floor, the wolf paced the edges of his conscious, chomping at the bit to take control, but he pushed it down, struggling to stay himself. The roar in his ears had calmed to a dull rush, allowing him to focus on getting to his feet. As soon as he stood up Alpha was right in front of him, one hand on the top of his head, pushing him down and keeping him still. Bucky snapped at his wrist, trying to scoot back and duck his head out of Alpha’s grip._

_“Submit!” Alpha commanded, holding fast on Bucky’s fur, tugging straight at the root. Bucky pulled again, suppressing a whine at the flash of pain when Alpha yanked. “I said submit.” His tone was lower, more threatening. He let out a long growl and Bucky promptly went limp, Alpha’s grip the only thing keeping him upright. “Good boy, James. Keep this up and this will all go so well.” He dropped Bucky and placed a hand on Rumlow’s shoulder. “Start him on his training. We need him ready to fight as soon as possible.” Rumlow nodded and bowed his head, watching Alpha leave out of the corner of his eye. The rest of the betas filed out after him until only Bucky and Rumlow were left. Rumlow looked down at him and grinned, all fangs._

_“Alright, Pup. You’re mine now.”_

_~~~~~~_

Bucky spent about two days wandering the city, trying to get up the nerve to go back to Joey and Lacy. He went hesitantly when he finally did, unsure of how welcome he would be.

When he approached Joey was crouched by a pile of cardboard trying to light a fire and Lacy was curled up behind him, asleep with her face buried in her sleeve. He stood at the entrance to their alleyway, watching them fondly. Eventually, Joey glanced up and froze, dropping Lacy’s lighter in surprise. 

“Bucky?!” Joey exclaimed, standing up so fast he nearly fell over. He shook Lacy awake but she batted his hands away and sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. 

"What's going on?" Bucky cleared his throat, catching her attention. She jumped up just as fast as her brother, throwing herself at him and wrapping him up in a tight hug. "Don't you ever do that again, it's not safe," she said, voice muffled in his shirt. Bucky rubbed her back comfortingly.

"I won't."

"Thank you." She squeezed and then let go, pulling him over to the small, now lit fire that Joey was aggressively blowing on in an attempt to make it bigger. "Joey 'found' some hotdogs and we're going to cook them if you want some." He nodded and went to put his bag down, smiling to himself as they started bickering about who got to cook the first hotdog.  _No_ , he thought, _I can't get attached. It wouldn’t be safe for them._ Stuffing his bag into its designated corner he went to join the twins, determined to enjoy whatever time he had left with them before it all inevitably went to shit.

~~~~~~

“You’re looking for a man, huh?”

Bucky didn’t like the way this woman was looking at him. Like she knew something he didn’t know she knew.  Her sharp red fingernails were tapping out a soothing pattern on the bakery’s glass display case but her green eyes were sharp and calculating, examining him down to the very threads of his worn shirt. He gripped the bills in his pocket like a lifeline and said, “He’s big and blond, works here.” 

“Ah, you’re looking for _that_ man.” She looked to the kitchen and yelled for someone named Steve. A few seconds later the man from before emerged, wiping his hands on an apron coated in flour that really seemed to be doing the opposite of cleaning his hands. When he saw Bucky he stopped dead, the confused smile now gone, replaced with a wary frown.

“Oh,” was all he said. The very obvious unhappy tone in his voice stung a little but, Bucky had to admit, he wasn’t without reason. The woman summarized their conversation and left, presumably replacing Steve in the kitchen. Bucky stayed stock still, unable to force his hand out of his pocket so he could start to apologize. Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest and Bucky looked away, even more nervous than before. The last time they'd met Bucky had been too distracted to notice that Steve had biceps the size of his head. 

“I wasn’t kidding about the cops,” Steve said, staring him down. His gaze was steady and unyielding, like a barrier. He was the very image of a soldier and Bucky was taken aback. He flinched a little when he saw Steve’s eyes flick to his empty sleeve before they widened in surprise and his gaze flew back to Bucky’s face, like he suddenly saw him in a new light.

Bucky hated it. Every time someone noticed they always reacted the same way, turning into shocked and pitying idiots. He was constantly being thanked for his service by people who wanted to fulfill their daily quota of good deeds or some other shit like that and he wanted desperately to correct them but it wasn’t like he just come straight out and say, “I lost it to a bear trap while I was hunting another werewolf,” so he suffered in silence.

“I’m gonna guess you knew that,” Steve said, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts. Knew what? That he was missing an arm? No shit Sherlock. He nodded to make it look like he’d been listening, he didn’t want to make a bad impression even worse.

Desperate to escape, Bucky managed to shove the money into Steve’s face and say, “For the muffins.” He tried to steady the tremors in his hand from the stress but he was far too tense to manage it. Steve plucked, _plucked_ , the money from his hands and turned to, presumably, put it in the register. Bucky didn’t stick around to find out, dashing out the door, quickly apologizing to the small, old lady he almost knocked over in his rush to get away before Steve tried to, god forbid, make him explain himself. Distantly, he registered Steve saying, “Thank you,” but brushed it off, figuring it was probably addressed to a customer.

~~~~~~

 


	4. Steve

~~~~~~

Worry twisted his stomach into a knot when the guy didn't come back. He was being ridiculous, focusing this much on a complete stranger. The most Steve knew about him was that he was homeless and down an arm. Other than that the man was a mystery and Steve was trying hard not to get attached. Besides, New York was full of homeless people, many in much worse conditions than this one. So why did he capture so much of Steve’s attention?

Natasha took one look at him when he told her this, sighed in exasperation, and slid him a spare cupcake. He grudgingly accepted it and the judging eyebrow she was giving him. He knew he was being ridiculous but he couldn’t help it; there were stories behind those eyes that he desperately wanted to hear.

~~~~~~

Steve didn’t see the guy for another week and a half.

Two minutes before he was going to lock up for the night, he heard suspicious thumps and muffled raised voices from the alley outside. Immediately on guard, he set down the box of apples he was carrying and walked cautiously to the door, grabbing the heavy broom they kept under the stairs just in case. At the next thump Steve flung open the door and stepped out into the alley, shuddering slightly at the sudden blast of cold air. Two men were grappling against the bricks, the aggressor had his forearm pressed against the other man’s neck and appeared to be…growling? In the other guy’s ear. The guy on the bottom was straining to get away, fingers pulling at the arm against his neck and kicking out in an attempt to take out the other guy’s knees. Gripping the broom handle in both hands Steve made himself as big and threatening as he could and shouted, “Hey, assholes! Beat the shit out of each other if you want but take it out of my alley!” They froze and turned to look at him in sync. Steve almost dropped the broom in surprise when he saw that the homeless guy from before was the one pinned to the wall.

“Fuck off, this ain’t any of your business,” the aggressor said and then-oh yeah, that was a growl.

“You’re fighting against my building and you’re getting blood on it. It’s absolutely my business,” Steve said testily, gesturing to the blood that was dripping down the wall from where Homeless Guy’s head connected with the brick. “Besides, this doesn’t exactly seem like a fair fight now does it? He’s only got one arm.” At this homeless guy’s eyes seemed to flash in anger and he sneered at Steve.

“He can hold his own,” the aggressor said with a laugh, pressing down harder. Homeless Guy snarled and bucked, almost succeeding in pushing him away. Steve’s eyes narrowed when he was shoved back into the wall, bouncing off with a nasty cracking sound.

“He shouldn’t have to.” Steve lunged forward and drove the broom handle directly into the back of the aggressor’s knee, pulled it away enough to turn it in his grip, then hit him across the back before shoving him away.  He groaned from where he’d landed in the snow before slumping and falling silent. Steve turned to homeless guy, blowing out a long breath. He looked genuinely awful.

Blood matted his hair, running down his neck and face in streaks and his eyes were fluttering closed. Steve knelt next to him and patted him on the cheek to get his attention, shushing him when he tried to move away. “Come on, stay awake.” He groaned and Steve nodded, taking Homeless Guy's arm and looping it over his shoulders. “I know, I know. Give me a few minutes and then you can sleep, okay?” Another groan, this one significantly more irritated. Steve snorted and stood slowly, easing Homeless Guy up with him. With one last glance behind him to make sure the man he’d knocked out was, in fact, unconscious he took Homeless Guy inside, already pulling his phone out of his pocket to call 911.

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one I know but tomorrow's chapter will definitely be much longer!


	5. Bucky

_~~~~~~_

_No matter how many times they explained it to him he still couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t understand why when he tried to move the fingers of his left hand there was nothing there to show his efforts. Cold wind whistled through the trees outside his window but he paid no attention to it, instead staring at his shoulder and willing his arm to reappear._

_“It’s gone. Get over it. We all have scars it’s nothing special.” Rumlow slapped the last bit of tape over the bandage with far more force than was necessary but Bucky didn’t react. He knew better by now than to give him the satisfaction. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t deserve it. You let Jeffrey escape. Alpha’s furious, this isn’t what he changed you for.” Rumlow said completely casually as he left the room._

_Bucky scooted back until his back hit the wall and switched to staring at a wall. The scar on his leg throbbed at Rumlow’s reminder. Eleven years after the bite and he still couldn’t stand to look at it, the memories of that night too painful. He swore he could still feel Alpha’s teeth sinking into the meat of his thigh and Rumlow’s arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him down. Could still remember waking up in the same bed he was in now with a bandage on his thigh and a growl on his lips._

_When he finally pulled himself out of his own head he realized that no one had come after Rumlow left, he couldn’t even hear the other pack members anywhere in the house. The only time the base was empty was when the pack went on a big hunt and they never left without him. He was alone and somehow that hurt more than losing his arm had. He hated them but they were familiar, they were routine, and their absence was jarring. He scoffed bitterly. Of course they left him, if he was stupid enough to get himself caught in a hunter’s trap he had obviously lost his touch. They needed a skilled hunter not half a wolf to hold them back._

_The pain in his shoulder flared up and he growled in frustration, slamming his hand over the stump. Tape ripped as he let his claws out and dragged them along the bandage. It fell in strips until white cotton covered his lap and blood dripped from between his fingers. Fresh claw marks littered the mess of flesh that was his shoulder and he shoved and pulled at his body until he was wedged in the corner of his room, shaking and whimpering at the pain and the knowledge that he would never be useful again._

_~~~~~~_

The cold snuck through the holes in Bucky’s coat, keeping him company as he made his way through the dark streets of Brooklyn. He shivered and walked faster, wanting to get to the twins to make sure they were staying warm. With three blocks still to go he heard a voice from behind him that he hadn’t heard in months. “Hey, Pup.” Bucky froze midwalk. “Thought running all the way to New York would get you off scot-free, didn’t you?” Turning, he bit back a snarl at the sight of Rumlow’s condescending smirk, still recognizable through the thick scars that lined the entire left side of his face.

“Get away from me you piece of _shit_ you’re supposed to be dead,” Bucky said warningly, hackles rising.

“Oh damn,” Rumlow exclaimed, laughing in surprise. “Puppy’s finally figured out how to bark, huh?” He stepped closer, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Bucky backed away before turning and running. If he could get to a well-lit or populated area he’d be safer, even Rumlow wasn’t stupid enough to kill him in public. Heavy boots pounded down the sidewalk right on Bucky’s heels as they ran. Bucky’s breath came in harsh pants as they neared the square.

 Right as he was about to dash into the middle of the late-night shopping crowd Rumlow grabbed his collar and hauled him into an alley, shoving him up against the rough wall. Bucky had only a split second to worry about the new tears that he was sure to find in the back of his coat before Rumlow’s arm was an iron bar across his windpipe and callused fingers pressed into the side of his neck as he leaned in. Hot breath ghosted over Bucky’s ear as Rumlow whispered, “You may have learned to bark but can you still bite? _Alpha_ wants to know.” Bucky grunted and pulled at Rumlow’s arm, every muscle in his body tense. Rumlow smiled sweetly, gaze running over every inch of Bucky’s face. “Couldn’t let our best guard dog go without a fight,” he cooed faux comfortingly. Rough fingers tugged at the frayed rope that held his pendant, tightening it like a noose around his neck. “Oh look, someone still has mommy’s jewelry. _How sweet_.” Bucky gagged, spitting in his face and pulling even harder at his arm. Rumlow’s eyes narrowed and he roughly wiped his face off before getting a vice-grip on Bucky’s chin and growling in his ear. “Pup I was being nice. Thought you’d appreciate my efforts a little more than this. Thought we taught you to be _grateful_.” 

Bucky was about to reply when a door opened beside them and a man yelled, “Hey assholes! Not in my alley!” He and Rumlow looked over at the same time and a bolt of panic shot through him when he saw Steve standing there brandishing a broom like it would do any good against a werewolf.  He could deal with himself getting hurt, that wasn’t a problem, but not Steve. Not an innocent human.

“Fuck off, this ain’t any of your business,” Rumlow shot back. Steve kept talking, most of it passing right over Bucky’s head as he started to feel the effects of not being able to breathe properly. The world was starting to swim around him; Rumlow’s face going fuzzy and Steve’s voice quieting, only a few words coming through.

“My building…not a fair…one arm.” At that Bucky snarled, offended. Even without the arm he could take care of himself.

“He can hold his own,” Rumlow said, echoing Bucky’s thoughts and pushing him further into the brick like he was trying to make him part of the wall. Bucky coughed a little and bucked his hips and shoulders forward, trying to land a kick on Rumlow's knee to get him to release his grip. All he accomplished was getting his head slammed into the wall and causing more blood to trickle down the back of his neck. Great. A fresh bout of dizziness hit him as well as unwelcome nausea and after a moment more of fighting it he went limp, deciding to wait it out. It wasn’t like he could do much other than struggle to stay awake at this point.

Distantly, he registered Steve say something else and then the pressure on his neck was gone and Rumlow was on the ground, groaning. Sucking in air, he slid down the wall a little and watched through heavy lids as Steve checked Rumlow before turning to him. With a concerned look on his face Steve knelt next to him and reached up to touch his face. Bucky shied away, still sore from where Rumlow had gripped him and he was already in enough pain without the added pressure of fingers on his skin. Steve shushed him and eased them both up into a standing position, leading Bucky inside. Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as Rumlow, quiet as a ghost, pulled himself up out of the snow and dashed away into the night. Sighing inwardly, Bucky looked away. He wasn’t well enough for this shit, this was a tomorrow problem.

~~~~~~

Steve rattled the address of the bakery off to the cops as he searched through the first aid kit, phone pressed in between his cheek and ear. The back of Bucky’s head hurt like a motherfucker as it slowly healed, the split skin knitting back together. He hoped against hope that it wouldn’t heal completely by the time Steve found whatever he was looking for and fixed him up, he really wasn’t feeling up for the whole, ‘hey I’m a werewolf isn’t that nice,’ conversation tonight. The phone beeped as Steve hung up and waved the bandages victoriously. Now completely alert, healing factor pepping him back up, Bucky eyed the exit contemplatively. Surely it wouldn’t be so hard to distract Steve and run…Unfortunately for that plan, Steve was already at his side, tube of antibiotic cream in one hand and the roll of white bandages in the other as well as two safety pins sticking out the corner of his mouth.

“Found them! They were all the way at the bottom,” he said, words muffled around the pins. Gentle fingers smoothed Bucky’s hair away from the wounds and applied a cool, soothing cream that felt heavenly. Unwillingly Bucky began to relax, leaning slightly into the touch and letting out a soft, happy sigh. Steve chuckled and began to wrap the bandages around his head. “Like this, huh?” Bucky nodded.

“You know…” Steve trailed off, seemingly pondering his next words. “If you plan to keep showing up here I wouldn’t mind knowing your name. I can’t keep calling you homeless guy.” Bucky sat stock still, eyes wide in surprise. He hadn’t thought Steve would want to see him again, their encounters so far weren't exactly ideal. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, I completely understand.” Steve was talking very quickly, refusing to look Bucky in the eye and a light, embarrassed flush colored his cheeks. Bucky swallowed down his nerves and placed a hand on Steve's arm, catching his attention.

“It’s Bucky.”

~~~~~~

Really, he should have predicted this. Should have taken the glaringly obvious bandage off and rinsed out any leftover blood before going back to the alley, should have done something to make it look like he hadn’t just been attacked. But he'd been so exhausted after everything that had happened he'd just stumbled back to the alley, keeping an eye out for Rumlow all the way back. He'd taken a few back ways and backtracked a few times just in case he _was_ being followed. An hour later he made it to the alley where the twins practically shoved him down onto his mat, telling him, "You look half-dead, man. What the fuck."

“Bucky this has to stop,” Lacy said, gaze fixed on the bandages. “First you disappear and don’t come back for days-I thought you were _dead_ -and now this. I don’t know what’s going on but I do know you’re getting hurt and it needs to stop. You could actually die next time and it’s not like we have the luxury of calling the cops to look for you.” Joey nodded, arms crossed and a serious look on his face. Serious on Joey was so comical Bucky almost laughed. Almost. Instead he pulled Lacy in for a hug, tucking her head under his chin, even though it took some serious adjusting to accomplish. She snuggled in, the edges of her ripped jeans catching on the rough ground and tearing a little bit more as she tucked herself fully into his side.

“I’ll be careful,” he rasped. Joey sat down on Bucky’s other side, wrapping his arms around them both.

“That’s not what I said but I’ll take it.” Lacy said, voice muffled in his coat. He just stroked her back and settled in for the night, knowing they weren’t going to let him go anytime soon.

The twins fell asleep a few minutes later, cheeks pressed into his sides and snoring in sync. Bucky didn’t join them. He kept one possessive hand on Lacy and one eye on Joey. For the rest of the night he stayed awake, alert. Keeping watch and thinking about what he was going to do next as Joey and Lacy slept.

~~~~~~


	6. Steve

~~~~~~

“Homeless Guy got beat up right next to our door and you don’t even call me?!”

“Sorry, Nat. I was a little distracted. I did call the police but both he and his attacker were gone by the time they got there. Also, his name is Bucky."

 “I don’t know which is worse: that you didn’t call an ambulance or that you just decided to play doctor on your own.” She shook her head, taking a long sip of her beer.

“I have enough medical knowledge and experience from my mom and the army combined that I’m pretty sure I know how to handle a hit to the head. Besides, the second I finished putting on the bandage he was gone, there was no way I could've kept him here long enough for the ambulance to arrive, let alone take him to the hospital.”

“Well, we'll see how he's feeling next time he comes around."

“How do you know he’ll come back here? I mean, so far he hasn't had any reason to _want_ to come back.”

“Trust me," she said simply, handing him a beer, "he will."

~~~~~~

To Steve’s surprise, and Natasha’s smug satisfaction, Bucky came by the next day just after closing, accompanied by two college-age kids, the holes in their clothes and the layers of dirt on their skin the same as Bucky’s.  Standing just outside the door, the kids appeared to be arguing with Bucky. The door framed them like a painting and Steve took the opportunity to look the new kids over. They both had bright, shaggy, red hair and the boy couldn’t seem to stay still, every fidget earning a quick glare from the girl. He towered over both Bucky and the girl but the awkward way he held himself and the innocent air about him made him seem years younger than he actually looked.

Finally, the girl seemed to win Bucky over and he came inside, eyeing each corner and table before slowly approaching the counter. Smiling, Steve leaned both elbows on the glass and tried to make his posture as open and inviting as possible. Bucky hesitated for a second before finally closing the distance between them and resting his hand on the counter, fingers curled against the glass just inches away from Steve’s arm.

“Feeling better?” Steve asked, holding back from asking the questions he really wanted to ask like what the hell happened last night and why the bandage from before was gone. Head wounds don’t heal that quickly, that's not how it works.  Bucky still looked as pale as he had last night, bloodshot eyes bright red compared to the rest of his face, and he was twitchy, eyes flicking from Steve’s face to the rest of the shop and even the kitchen. He looked like a frightened animal.

“Bucky,” Steve waved his hand to get Bucky’s attention. “Are you feeling okay?” Bucky stared at him for a second, jaw working as he tried to come up with a response.

“Yes,” was all he said, though he was clearly lying.

“Is it your head still?” Inside Steve was dying to know why the bandage was off but he refrained from outright saying it. Bucky shook his head. Surrounded by empty tables he looked small even though his back was ramrod straight. The kids outside were eyeing Steve suspiciously. Steve eyed them right back, matching the girl raised eyebrow to raised eyebrow before turning his attention back on Bucky.

“If your head’s okay then I guess I shouldn’t worry too much.” He smiled briefly then nodded his head to the door. “Are you going to invite your friends in or shall I?” Bucky’s look of momentary shock was almost comical, like he’d forgotten they were there. He opened the door a crack and whispered something before opening it fully and letting them inside. Cautiously, they made their way to the counter. The boy didn’t quite manage to keep his excitement in check as he stared at the display of muffins and the girl noticed, jabbing him in the side with her elbow.

“Keep it together,” she hissed. “I’m Lacy and that idiot is my brother, Joey.” She stuck out her hand, giving him a genuine smile when he went straight for the handshake without any hesitation. “Firm, I like it.” Behind her, someone groaned in dismay. “Oh shut up.” Addressing Steve she said, “Thank you for taking care of Bucky, lord knows he won't do it himself.”

“I’d do the same for anyone who needed it,” he said honestly. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw disappointment flash across Bucky’s face but when he looked over it was gone. Lacy nodded in approval and patted his hand.

“Good man.”

~~~~~~

After that it became routine. Either Bucky, the twins, or both would come in after closing for some respite from the cold and to chat with Steve and Natasha. Well, Lacy and Joey chatted while Bucky sat in one of the corner chairs watching them, occasionally adding something here and there. 

He never said it out loud but Steve could see in the affectionate way he watched the twins that Bucky would do anything for them. It showed in his grateful nod and small smile every time Natasha handed them the bag of spare food she'd put together at closing time. It showed when he wordessly forced Lacy to wear his jacket if it was particularly cold outside and watched Joey like a hawk, reaching out and snagging the back of his coat whenever he tripped so he wouldn't fall flat on his face. 

Maybe Steve lost some good sleep staying at the bakery late into the night but it was worth it to see the happiness on their faces when they opened the food and saw whatever Natasha had put in or the relief at the warmth of the bakery that greeted them every time they stepped in out of the snow. 

~~~~~~


	7. Bucky

~~~~~~

_It took a month after the loss of his arm for Bucky to finally break._

_He could still hear Rumlow stomping around outside the door to his quarters, yelling at the other betas and occasionally throwing things. He didn't take well to losing, especially not to a rival pack who would hold this over all of them for as long as they could. Bucky just sat and stared blankly at the wall in front of him, the cool porcelain of the bathtub pressing into the lacerations on his back. Blood dripped onto his bare legs from a gash just above his eye and a long cut bisected his stump, widening and tearing at his skin with every twitch. He could still feel the misleadingly gentle brush of the other pack enforcer’s hand against his face as it passed before it was pulled back sharply, claws dragging along his skin. He’d had to be pulled to safety not too long after when Rumlow saw that he was barely able to stand up, let alone fight._

_Now he sat in the bathroom, bloody evidence of his failure to perform his duty coating him and the surrounding tile. He hadn’t moved since Rumlow dumped him there to heal after realizing he was completely unresponsive._

_Eventually he could feel the tension from the adrenaline rush of the fight begin to leave his body. As he came down he started quivering, desperate to have that grounding stiffness back, desperate not to feel again. Bucky watched as his hand shook, claws sheathing and unsheathing themselves spastically. He was losing control, shifting without warning now that it was all hitting him at once. And he was strangely okay with that the more he thought about it. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, neck jerking as his bones cracked into place. ‘Maybe they’ll finally put me down.’_

~~~~~~

Bucky spent far too much time staked out near the bakery during the day for his own good. In his defense it was only a matter of time before the proverbial shit really hit the fan and Bucky wanted to be ready for it. Wanted to kill Rumlow before he killed Steve. He was only watching him out of necessity, to protect him. Really.

~~~~~~

It was below freezing when Steve offered Bucky a place to stay.

“You know…” Steve trailed off, watching the steam rise from his coffee and blend into the lamp-lit snow. Bucky hummed distractedly in response, unwilling to tear himself away from the hot chocolate that was the only thing keeping him warm. God, he hoped the twins were smart enough to stay inside instead of following him though he wouldn’t put it past Joey to get his stubborn ass stuck in the snow. Steve stayed quiet, taking another sip before speaking.

“I’ve been thinking. Natasha and I own the bakery and the loft above it. It's just sitting there, empty and gathering dust and she agrees that it's only right to ask if you wanted to stay there. At least for the winter.” Bucky choked on his hot chocolate, rubbing his throat and coughing as he stared at Steve incredulously. He opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again, eyes narrowing.

“Did the twins put you up to this? I swear to god if they-”

“Jesus, Bucky, no!”

“Don’t lie to me I know Lacy can be pretty damn convincing if she wants to be.” 

“I’m not lying, Buck! Is it so hard to believe someone would help you out just because they want to?” Steve exclaimed. Bucky took an involuntary step back, hackles rising at the anger in his voice, the threat. But his words gave Bucky pause.  Yes, he realized, yes it was that hard to believe. Rumlow only taught Bucky to make himself look better, Alpha only kept him alive because they needed a good fighter, and even the twins used him to keep themselves safe. Nothing came free and he sure as hell wasn’t going to trust that a deal this good came without a hefty price tag. Steve slowly loosened his white-knuckled grip on his coffee and let out a steadying breath. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

A thousand different responses sat on the tip of Bucky’s tongue but Steve didn’t deserve any of them so he settled on, “It’s okay,” and taking a long sip of his drink, looking anywhere but at Steve. Bucky wasn’t sure how to proceed. He hated that he’d exploded like that, knew it was completely unreasonable, but he also didn’t want to look weak in Steve’s eyes, something in him eager to please someone he’d only known for a short time. All he knew was that he was damn sure he wasn’t going to take the room, even if it was tempting. 

~~~~~~

He and Steve put the conversation behind them, both taking the well-trodden path of “let's pretend this never happened,” and moving on.

A few days later Steve came back with a different offer: “That loft can fit two people and if you won’t take it at least tell the twins it’s theirs if they want it.”

Joey and Lacy practically fainted at the prospect of having real beds to sleep in every night with the luxury of a bathroom _and_ a kitchen. In a week they were settled above the bakery, crammed together in the small space but glowing with happiness all the same.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?” Lacy asked on moving day. He knew she had approximately fifteen different ways they could fit him in the loft planned but he couldn’t do it. With Rumlow back in town he needed to start distancing himself from them, so it would they'd be less affected if something happened to him. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, giving her a weak smile. She looked doubtful but didn’t say anything.

“Guys come on! There’s, like, a sea of germs and dust in here and we have a shitton of supplies. We have no excuse!” Joey shouted from somewhere in the loft, his words overlapping with a mop clattering in a bucket. Lacy rolled her eyes and grabbed a washcloth, walking away and leaving Bucky in the middle of the small hallway that led from the stairs to door of the loft. Bickering and the sounds of far too aggressive cleaning came from the loft along with soft chatter and the ding of a register that floated up from the bakery.

Bucky found himself standing-lurking, really- by the bottom of the stairs. Occasionally a customer would catch sight of him and frown but they always looked away after a few seconds which he was grateful for. Steve manned the counter and every little old lady that came up to the counter practically melted when he shot them a wide, charming grin. Bucky snorted and slipped into Steve’s office, shutting the door behind him.

Papers filled every inch of Steve’s desk but the bookshelves were alphabetized and shelved perfectly, small picture frames and vintage toys placed haphazardly on each shelf. An overstuffed couch sat in the corner of the room, big pillows and a fluffy throw tempting Bucky. Hesitating, he looked over at the door, not keen on the idea of someone finding him asleep in Steve’s office after refusing to take the loft. It didn’t seem  quite right.

And yet.

Those pillows did look awfully soft…

~~~~~~


	8. Steve

~~~~~~

Steve had to admit, the last thing he expected to find after closing was Bucky asleep on the couch in his office. 

Bucky was completely silent when he slept, Steve noted in surprise. He genuinely wouldn’t have known he was alive without the minute shifting of Bucky’s jacket with every rise and fall of his chest, fabric wrinkling around the straps of his backpack. He turned to leave his office, pausing with a finger on the light switch when a barely audible whimper came from where Bucky was sleeping. Steve turned the light on immediately, walking back over to the couch to check on him.

Bucky stayed asleep but he wore a pained expression and small sounds of distress kept escaping him. He got louder and louder, the whimpers becoming something more animalistic and his fingers began to spasm where they lay against his stomach. Concerned, Steve knelt by the couch, cautiously reaching out to shake him awake. The second he made contact with Bucky’s shoulder-in hindsight he probably shouldn’t have gone for the amputated side-he found himself pinned to the wall, head bouncing hard off the wood paneling, nose to nose with one very angry, very strange looking Bucky. Gone was his familiarly gaunt face, replaced by the visage of a creature. His nose was crinkled in a snarl that revealed sharp, elongated teeth.

His fingers dug into the side of Steve’s neck, unusually sharp fingernails adding an unpleasant bite to his grip. Instead of their usual pale color his eyes were electric blue, glowing in the dim light of the office.  He was growling lowly, looking at Steve like he didn’t recognize him.

“Bucky…please,” Steve said, pulling at Bucky’s hand desperately. He couldn’t breathe, the walls pulsing in time with the throbbing pain in his head. Bucky’s grip hadn’t loosened but he looked more confused and unsure than angry as he registered Steve's voice. “Buck,” Steve choked out, letting his panic show in his voice. The fingers around his neck tightened before Bucky jerked his hand back like he’d been burned and dropped Steve like a ragdoll, staring at him in horror.

“No. No, no, no… _shit_.”

“Bucky wait,” Steve tried, wincing at how ragged he sounded. Bucky just shook his head and kept muttering, “No.” Steve attempted to stand up but ended up back where he’d started, on the floor and gasping for breath. When he finally managed to get off the floor Bucky was gone, the office door wide open and revealing a dark, empty hallway. Steve stumbled out of the office and cursed when he saw the door to the alley, slowly shutting as the wind whipped little flakes of snow inside.

“What the _fuck_.”

~~~~~~

“What do you mean something’s wrong with Bucky? He was fine this afternoon,” Natasha said, raising a distinctly unimpressed eyebrow in his direction.

“I mean _something’s wrong with Bucky_. He was napping in my office and when I woke him up he just, _changed_ ,” Steve said, still trying to process what had just happened.

“Changed.” The eyebrow was trying valiantly to disappear into her hairline.

“His face wasn’t _his face_ anymore if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t but continue.”

“He changed and then slammed me up against the wall and tried to kill me. I swear he wasn’t human, Natasha.” She said nothing so he kept going. “Then he went back to normal, panicked, and ran away so now he’s somewhere out there in the snow, in the dark, with someone who might still want to kill him waiting for him.” He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, rubbing subconsciously at the bruises that lined his neck. 

"Hm."

"That's it? That's all you have to say about this?!"

"I mean, clearly you believe what you're saying so nothing I say will have any impact, will it?"

"You think I'm lying," Steve exclaimed, pointing at his neck. "Do these look fake to you? I know what I saw, Nat. Something weird is going on." She put her hands up placatingly.

"Okay, fine. If you want to find him your best bet is the twins, they know him and this city better than either of us."

~~~~~~

“I wouldn’t worry about him, he pulls this shit all the time. After the fifth consecutive disappearing act you kind of give up trying to find him. We’ve known him for almost three years and even Lacy hasn’t figured out where he goes. Sorry, dude.” Joey shrugged and popped a piece of burnt popcorn from the bowl on the mattress in his mouth. From the looks of the rest of the popcorn he had yet to figure out how to work the new microwave.  

“Don’t call me dude,” Steve said flatly.

“Sure, man.” Joey smirked when Steve’s eye twitched in irritation. 

“Steve, I’m sure he’s fine,” Lacy assured, completely ignoring her brother. Steve frowned and shook his head.

“He wasn’t in his right mind, I don’t feel right just sitting on my hands waiting for him to come back.”

“…What do you mean not in his right mind?”

Steve groaned, ran his fingers through his hair, and pulled for a short second before crossing his arms over his chest, silently thankful that his hair wasn’t buzzed like it had been in the army. He’d worn through the fabric of his fatigues with his stress-fiddling without the option of his hair. “He was sleeping in my office and I was going to let him be but he was having a bad nightmare so I tried to wake him up. When I did he reacted…explosively, to say the least. When he figured out what was going on he ran away. My point is he’s not exactly stable and it’s snowing and there are a lot of unsavory characters out there right now. I need to find him and you need to help me.”

“Unsavory characters? What are you, _ninety_?” Joey asked with a snort.

“Shut the fuck up, Joey,” Lacy ground out.  Joey grumbled and slumped down into the mattress, sullenly ignoring her as she started talking to Steve.  “If he reacted like that you might have a point but he usually comes back in a few days…” She bit her lip, glancing questioningly at Joey. He considered it for a long time, fiddling with a piece of popcorn as he thought.

Finally he said, “He’ll either come back or freeze to death. If he doesn’t want to be found he won’t be. Trust me.” Steve stood there for a moment longer, giving them a chance to change their minds, but they said nothing. He sighed, shook his head, and left the room.

Bucky had one night to come back before Steve started looking for him.

God.

He hoped he came back.

~~~~~~


	9. Bucky

 ~~~~~~

_The screams of the pack were still ringing in Bucky’s ears as he ran through the forest and away from the pack house, hand pressed against the claw marks in his side. Leaves and twigs crunched and snapped underneath his feet, tearing up the thin skin of the soles. Every sense was on high alert, ready to fight in case one of the other wolves had followed him._

_Once he reached the river he slowed down and came to a stop at the bank. A quick glance down at his side showed his skin knitting back together. He blew out a heavy breath and sank into the dirt, using the grit beneath his fingers and the sound of the water to center himself._

_The pack was gone, cut to ribbons by hunters._

_He’d known it was coming for years, knew they’d be taken down sooner rather than later. Hell, he’d been the one to tip off the hunters about the pack house. Despite all of that he couldn’t fight the pain of the pack bond snapping as each beta was slaughtered._

_In the distance a roar sounded, so loud and angry the ground shook with the force of it. Bucky froze midway down the stream, wide eyes staring straight through the trees to where he knew the pack house sat. Alpha survived. The remaining shreds of the pack bond connecting Alpha to him burned white-hot with pure hatred. Rumlow's bond matched it, stinging like acid. Bucky choked back the urge to howl in return, give away his location, and began to run again._

_Deep down he knew he could never stop running._

~~~~~~

Shit. The warehouse was locked. He scoffed, kicking the side of the building. Of course the owners finally decided to shape up and lock the doors when there’s a _fucking blizzard_ outside. Blinking the snow out of his eyes he moved down the line of warehouses, testing each door in hopes that one would be open.

Locked.

Locked.

Locked.

Wind shoved at the back of his calves and he stumbled forward, bracing himself against the brick wall. Keeping himself close to the wall to avoid the wind he made his way around to the back of the last warehouse. There was barely any cover under the awning of the back door but it would have to do.

Sheets of metal were leaning against the warehouse and he bent one into a sort of functioning half-cylinder, using it to shove the snow off the loading platform. He stuffed his backpack as far under the awning as he could before taking another sheet and using it as a makeshift lean-to. Curling into himself he laid his head on the damp fabric of his backpack, wrapped his frozen fingers around the skin-warmed pendant and fell asleep to the howling winds and clang of icy snow on thin metal.

~~~~~~

Waking up was hell. Snow had spilled over him through the open side of his makeshift shelter and it covered most of his feet and calves. Shivering, he slowly sat up, unfolding his stiff limbs as he went, and pushed as much of the snow off his legs as possible. He couldn’t feel anything below the knee but gritted his teeth and tried to stand up anyway, begging his healing factor to kick in quickly. Thankfully it did but it took him until the end of the row of warehouses to fully feel his legs again. He stopped just before he reached the main road. Where could he go from here?

He’d hurt Steve and accidentally outed himself but he was probably going to freeze to death if he stayed out in a New York winter for too much longer. It pained him to admit it but his best chance at survival was to go back to the bakery and pray that he wouldn't be greeted with a shotgun.

Snow crunched under his boots as he made his way through the deep piles of snow that lined the sidewalk. With every shiver that racked his body his backpack threatened to fall off his arm, forcing him to wrap his frozen fingers around the strap and hold it as tight as he could. Eventually the familiar pale blue awning came into view and he almost cried in relief.

Warm light spilled out of the front of the bakery and into the dim street. The shadows of people moving around inside stretched along the ground, the only sign of life this early in the morning. He stood just out of sight and watched as Steve and Natasha filled the display case with fresh cookies and cupcakes. They both wore a grim expression, silently passing trays to each other. He frowned and turned away, heading into the alley. Thankfully the backdoor was unlocked and he slipped inside.

As soon as the heat hit him his fingers began to twinge painfully as they warmed up. With some effort he toed out of his boots and placed them by the stairs. Muffled laughter carried down the stairs from the loft and he followed it, keeping his footsteps light and quiet. A bright bar of blue, flickering light lined the bottom of the door and he could hear the strains of some slow song along with the crunch of popcorn and the slow, content beat of the twins’ hearts. He tried not to listen to people’s heartbeats, thought it was invasive, but he wasn’t going in blind. Not now.

“Joey give me back the bowl!” Lacy exclaimed. Fabric rustled, a thud sounded, and they both grunted. Lacy must have tackled him.

“You’ve had it for the whole movie it’s my turn!”

Bucky smiled fondly at the familiar sound of them bickering. The smile dropped off his face when he remembered what he'd done only a night before. There was about a zero percent chance that Steve hadn't told them. Surely they wouldn't want to see him if they knew what he was.He bit his lip and turned away, going back downstairs. The apartment building wasn’t far away and he’d warmed up enough that he was pretty sure he could make it there in time. Bucky was so distracted he didn't notice someone walking towards him.

“Bucky?”

Bucky jumped, almost dropping his backpack, then slowly turned around. He swallowed nervously, hiding his fingers in his coat to hide the tremors.

“Steve.”

~~~~~~


	10. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little late y'all! The show I'm working on starts tech tomorrow and we've been building and rigging the sets so I haven't had a lot of time to edit and post.
> 
> This isn't my favorite chapter but, after multiple rounds of edits, I hope it's suitable!

 

~~~~~~

“I’m honestly impressed you lasted that long out there,” Steve said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He tried to telegraph any movements and chose his every word carefully so as not to spook Bucky. The last thing he wanted was to make him run back out into the snow when he looked on the verge of frostbite. Bucky’s lips were tinted blue and his body jerked with uncontrolled shivers. The weight of his backpack forced his shoulders into an awkward, lopsided hunch and he could barely keep himself up, using the door for support. For the most part he looked like a sick, cornered animal but his eyes were dangerously calculating, flicking from Steve’s face to the loft door to where his fingers clutched the doorknob.

They stood like that in silence for what felt like eternity; Steve watching in case Bucky keeled over, Bucky searching for the best escape.

Bucky finally broke the silence and jerked his chin towards the loft. “They seem happy.”

“They’re not. Not without you.” Bucky cringed at that and the door creaked in protest as he put more of his weight on it. “They’ve been pretending that they're all right but I know they're using movies to distract themselves. I honestly don’t think Lacy has slept a wink.”

“They’re better off.”

“Bucky don’t-”

“No. You’re all better off. You and Natasha haven’t known me too long, you’ll forget me soon enough and the twins will have you two to keep them on the straight and narrow. I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“ ** _Bucky_** ,” Steve said, horrified.

“I’ve already hurt you, Steve! How soon until it’s Natasha. Or Joey. Or even Lacy,” Bucky exclaimed, throwing his hand up in the air in frustration.

“Too dangerous for them my ass! How long have you been _protecting_ them? You’re probably the only reason Joey hasn’t gotten himself killed yet,” Steve growled, done being nice since it obviously wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

“That was before-”

“You haven’t even explained what the hell happened and you think I’m just going to let you go back out there? Without any good reason? Fuck that.” Bucky opened his mouth to protest but Steve held up a finger, cutting him off. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to go apologize to the twins for leaving them behind, _again_ , and then we’re going to have a talk. The others can be there or not, it’s up to you, but no matter what we’re _going_ to have that conversation.” Bucky just stared at him, dumbfounded. Steve pointed to the stairs. “Go.”

~~~~~~

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Bucky said, looking around at everyone sitting in the corner booth. 

“This is fucking bullshit he doesn’t have to say anything,” Joey grumbled, eyeing Steve unhappily.

“It’s fine, Joey.” Bucky shoved his hand in the pocket of his jacket and sunk into his chair a little. “It’s not fair to any of you if I don’t.”

“And it’s fair to _you_ to force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with? Like I said, bullshit.”

“Joey. Leave it alone,” Lacy snapped a little too quickly. He quieted and the room fell into a tense silence again.

“Maybe start with the asshole who assaulted you behind the bakery. He seemed to know you pretty well,” Steve said, crossing his arms in a less sullen imitation of Joey.  Lacy's head snapped towards Bucky and she narrowed her eyes.

“Assaulted you? Is that why you came back with bandages on?”

Bucky nodded and took a steadying breath.

“His name’s Rumlow he is, _was_ , my…” He hesitated. “My keeper.”

“Your what?” Lacy said, surprise coloring her words.

“He was the one who made sure I stayed in line, trained me."

“Okay but why?” Joey spread his hands in question. “I mean, trained you? What are you, some weird kind of secret agent? Come on, man.”

Bucky licked his lips and looked for all the world like he wanted the floor to swallow him up. “It's not-I'm not-it's complicated.”

“Okay fine, don’t tell us!” Joey exclaimed, pushing his chair out from the table. Natasha put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down. 

"Let him speak," she said calmly, not taking her hand off him. Bucky nodded at her in thanks. They all looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He swallowed. 

“I was nine.” Bucky’s voice was soft but his words seemed to reverberate in the nearly empty restaurant. “We were having dinner –order-in pizza, Ma didn’t feel like cooking-and they knocked on the door, all polite. When Dad answered the door they sliced his throat right there, just let him fall. After that they hit Ma and Becca over the head and took me. Last time I saw my family they were burning up along with the house. It didn’t take long for Alpha to bite me and then I was his. Still am, in some ways. Don’t think I’ll ever be free to be honest. If Rumlow can still find me…” He trailed off, picking at a chip in the old table.

Natasha waved at him to continue and he did, describing what could barely be called a life, let alone a childhood. Steve knew he was leaving things out when he paused, visibly reconsidered what he was about to say, and continued. At the end of it Bucky’s face had gone completely blank, Lacy was a mess of tears, and Joey was close to joining her but was trying and failing to pretend like he wasn’t affected. Bucky’s knees were pulled up to his chest and he was squeezing the small pendant he always wore so hard that his knuckles were white.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard him say,” Steve heard Joey whisper. Bucky squeezed the pendant tighter. Out of the corner of his eye Steve watched Natasha stand up, nod to Bucky, and leave, motioning for the twins to follow her.

Steve waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore then moved to sit next to Bucky, close enough that they were shoulder to shoulder. Bucky’s breaths were quiet but ragged, making his chest shudder with each inhale. The pendant’s sharp edges cut into his fingers and a few drops of blood fell to his pants.

“Will you stay here tonight?” Steve asked, head tipped back so he could stare at the exposed rafters, could distract himself.

“I don’t know.”

“Come home with me then.” A shocked breath. Another drop of blood.

“Okay.”

~~~~~~


	11. Bucky.1

~~~~~~

_“Get off her!”_

_Bucky stepped back under the fire escape, pulling the hood of his jacket low over his eyes. Just around the corner a very tall man was wrestling to pull a girl who looked just like him away from another, shorter, man who stunk of alcohol. Bucky’d just found this alley and he wasn’t keen on having to leave this soon so he elected to stay out of it. The tall one got shoved to the concrete and he stayed there, cradling his arm and groaning. With a yell of rage the girl kneed the man who was holding her against the bricks in the balls then brought the same knee up to meet his face as he doubled over. She pushed him away and knelt to check on the man on the ground. The other one wiped the blood from his face and staggered  back towards her, grabbing her hair and pulling her up._

_“You dyke bitch, how dare yo-” He was cut off when Bucky shoved him into the wall and grabbed his chin. Bucky looked him over and sneered in his face, letting a hint of fang show and his eyes flash. By tomorrow morning he'll have forgotten it but he was drunk enough now it was safe to scare him a little._

_“Go away.” The man nodded jerkily and sprinted sloppily down the sidewalk when Bucky let him go. He turned to the girl who was examining the tall one’s elbow and asked, “Are you alright?”_

_“I’m fine. He could be better though.” She poked at the guy’s wounded skin and he yelped._

_“Jesus, Lacy! Have some compassion."_

_“You just proved my point, idiot.”_

_“Whatever…” The guy yanked his arm back, grimacing when he saw the huge, raw scrape. He stood up, brushed the dirt off his ratty jeans, and grinned at Bucky. “How did you do that? Rod’s been on our case for weeks and you put the fear of god in him in two seconds flat!”_

_“You looked like you needed help, that’s all.” Bucky shifted from foot to foot, eager to leave. He’d already been out in the open for too long. He hated himself for risking his cover for some stupid kids who didn’t know how to stay out of trouble._

_“Well, thanks, I guess.” She paused, squinting suspiciously at him. “What do you want to get out of this? Because sorry to say it pal but these goods are off the market even though I’m way out of your price range and Joey and I don’t have any valuables so if you want a reward or something you’re going to have to make like Rod and skedaddle.”_

_“What?”_

_“You helped us. Great, cool, awesome. Just don’t expect me to grovel at your feet because of it or you might get a broken nose too. Capiche?” She pointed a threatening finger at him and Joey stepped a little closer. Bucky saw Joey’s hands twitch up in preparation to fight like he’d seen Rumlow do so many times. Shit. He didn’t want to start another fight and bring even more attention to himself._

_“I’m not looking for anything. I saw a situation going south and I couldn’t ignore it. Tell your guy to back off.” Lacy nudged Joey and he backed away reluctantly. “Now the two of you should get gone. He’ll probably come back and I’m not in the mood to punch someone today.” He added a sneer for good measure and smiled to himself as Lacy stalked away, dragging Joey behind her. If they had any sense they wouldn’t return to this spot for a while, they’d stay safe._

_~~~~~~_

 “I know it’s a mess, sorry. I’ve spent so little time here that I haven’t been able to tidy up. The couch is all yours and you can use the kitchen, bathroom, and anything in them whenever you want.” Steve looked like he wanted to say more but refrained, instead settling on leaving for his bedroom with a simple, “Goodnight.” Bucky nodded at him absently, rubbing the pendant with still twinging fingers as he looked around.  Steve’s apartment was smaller and more cluttered than Bucky expected. A pile of blankets and pillows lay on the ugly red and green plaid couch and the coffee table was covered in empty mugs, books, and newspapers. Sketchbooks and comics filled the shelves of a small bookshelf next to a fireplace with miscellaneous sketches taped to the stone mantle. A number of mismatched lamps filled the room with a soft, yellow light that cast angular shadows on the walls. It looked and felt like a home, something Bucky had almost forgotten about, and it made him nervous, made him think that maybe this was a dream and he was still stuck behind the warehouse.

He stood in the cramped front hall for a long time, afraid to move, afraid that it would shatter the fragile peace that had settled over the apartment. In the background he registered Steve going back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom until he finally turned off the light and shut his bedroom door. Not five minutes later he started snoring softly and Bucky shook his head in disbelief. How could he just let someone that tried to kill him a day ago into his home then fall asleep like it was totally normal? He listened to Steve sleep until he was sure he wouldn’t wake up then stepped forward into the living room. When the room didn’t disappear and he could still hear Steve snoring he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This was real. He was safe.

Exhaustion pulled on him like a dead weight but he pushed through it, determined not to get on Steve’s couch until he was clean. The bathroom was even smaller than the front hall and he was, quite frankly, shocked that Steve regularly fit in a shower that looked like it could barely hold Lacy. A disgustingly pink sink was built into the wall and a few towels teetered dangerously on the edge of a shelf above it. He grabbed one and hung it up on the hook next to the shower before slowly shedding his clothes, tossing them on top of his backpack. Droplets of water left over from Steve’s shower clung to the glass door and they dampened his skin as he stepped in. A ridiculous number of bottles were stuffed in the shower caddy next to what looked like a fresh bar of soap. He turned the water on and savored the hot, almost scalding, stream that hit his chest.

He grabbed the shampoo and got to work lathering his hair up until it looked like he had a foam hat on. It took three rinses to make his hair acceptably clean but he didn’t mind, taking the time to work all the tangles out of his hair as he washed it. Then he tackled the soap, scrubbing along his skin inch by inch and grimacing at the dirty, brown water that ran down his body. By the time it was all said and done he felt like a new man and the water ran clear. The towel was gentle on his rubbed-raw skin and the cold tiles were refreshing under his feet.  The steam in the air smelled like apples and Steve, an aftereffect of using so much of Steve’s bath supplies. Bucky didn’t think too hard about why he found it comforting.

It wasn’t until he was almost done drying off that he noticed the sweatpants, long-sleeved shirt, and boxers that sat folded up on the lid of the toiler with a post-it note on top that read: “ _For Bucky_.”

~~~~~~

Bright morning light, filled the room, softened by the curtains that hung over the windows. Warmth surrounded him and he snuggled deeper into the couch, burying his face in the pillow. It had been so long since he’d woken up comfortable.

He lay there for what seemed like hours, listening to the sounds of Steve waking up and clattering around in the kitchen.  Something sizzled as it hit a hot pan. Pancakes? Bucky sniffed the air and pushed himself up off the couch, wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders as he padded into the tiny kitchen. Bacon, pancakes, and toast were stacked high on a serving plate and Steve was humming to himself as he scrambled eggs in a pan. Bucky just watched, taking in the soft, sloping planes of Steve’s back and neck, the sharpness of his profile, and the way the light illuminated his soft bedhead. He quickly looked away when he saw the ring of bruises that still marked Steve's neck. 

“I should probably wake him up,” Steve muttered to himself, grabbing a mug of coffee that Bucky hadn’t even noticed and turned around, almost dropping it when he saw Bucky. “Oh! You’re up!” Bucky smiled a little at the flustered but genuinely happy look on Steve’s face.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Steve handed him the coffee then gestured behind him at the counter full of food. “Help yourself.” Bucky reached for the bacon, looked to Steve for reassurance, and snatched two strips when he said, “Go ahead.”

“Don’t you have work?” Bucky asked through a bite of bacon.

“Natasha covered for me, insisted that I should stay home; was rather pushy about it actually.” He smiled at Bucky again, a bright smile that made his whole face light up. A bright smile that was for him. Bucky blushed lightly and looked away, taking another bite of bacon. “How do you feel? Did you sleep okay on the couch? I know the cushions are a little lumpy, I’ve tried beating it out of them but it never works.”

“I feel good, thank you for this.” Bucky waved around at the apartment, letting that speak for him.

“No problem.  You needed a place to stay and I had one so it all worked out.” He took a sip of his own coffee. “You know, you clean up well,” he said, nodded, and walked away to his bedroom, completely oblivious of Bucky who was choking a little on bacon and blushing furiously.

~~~~~~

For two days they lived in a façade of normalcy.  Bucky stayed on Steve’s couch and wore his old sweats, ignoring how being surrounded by Steve’s scent helped him sleep better than he had in years. Steve cooked breakfast for them in the morning and took the opportunity to show Bucky as many movies as he could. Cartoons and dramatic couples in black and white gave Bucky an excuse to sit on the couch in silence, avoiding as much conversation as possible. When they did talk, to Bucky’s great relief, Steve never pressed him for more information, only sharing anecdotes from his own life and leaving little pauses, silent offers of time to talk. When Bucky didn’t speak Steve only shrugged and kept going.  

It was nice.

So of course it had to end.

“The twins are doing a fine job in your place but we need another hand in the kitchen. I’m expecting you to be there tomorrow. The usual time.” _Beep_. Steve’s phone flashed with a “missed call: Natasha” banner but the alert went unnoticed by the two men on the couch, shoulders touching as they slumped into each other in their sleep.

“Are you going to come with me?” Steve asked the next morning after he’d finished packing his bag with a few extra ingredients for the bakery’s kitchen. Bucky nodded, mostly to himself, and picked at the chip in the handle of his mug. It’d only been two days since what he’d dubbed The Incident and he had no idea how he’d be received when he returned. Some part of him had hoped he could just stay in Steve’s apartment forever, never breaking the routine they’d started to build. But when Steve’s phone rang that fantasy was destroyed, replaced by the intimidating reality that he couldn’t just run anymore, that that wasn’t an option. They’d all drag him back before he got within two feet of the door if they thought he was going to try and run away again, he knew that.

Fuck it.

He couldn’t hide forever.

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing one of Steve’s spare jackets-one that wouldn’t let the cold in-and his backpack. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was extra long so it's divided into two parts, this is the first. (sidenote: why are my longest chapters always from Bucky's POV???)


	12. Bucky.2

~~~~~~

_Joey poked Bucky in the side. “Hey. Hey dude. Can I ask you a question?” Bucky grunted an affirmative, not looking up from the little wolf he was shaping out of some wire._

_“We’ve been sharing an alley for two days and we still don’t know your name, are you ever going to tell us?” Bucky pinched one loop of wire into a pointy fang that shined when it caught the light from the dim streetlamp, ignoring Joey._

_Joey huffed and went to poke him again but stopped when Bucky said, “Buchanan.” He was almost positive Rumlow and Alpha never knew his middle name. This was safer than going by his first or even his last name._

_“Buchanan? Dude, no.” He scrunched up his nose in thought then snapped his fingers. “I got it! I’ll call you Bucky.”_

~~~~~~

**Three Months Later:**

“Table 3 wants an extra bagel but I have to get Myrtle her coffee,” Joey called back to the kitchen, adding an extra dash of cinnamon to the drink in front of him just like Myrtle liked it. “Can you take it, Bucky?”

Bucky nodded and started prepping a bagel for table 3, stopping occasionally to adjust the apron that he still, after a month of working at the bakery, didn’t know how to tie properly. When Steve had officially offered Bucky and the twins the jobs he hadn’t warned them about the aprons they’d have to wear. So far no one had commented on the dancing cartoon bagel plastered across the front and for that Bucky was grateful.

Table 3 was at the far side of the bakery and he had to wind his way between other tables to get to it, keeping the plate high to avoid dropping it. Thankfully, the bakery was almost empty except for Myrtle and the people at table 3 so he didn’t have to avoid any children or squeeze between pushed out chairs. Two women, one young and one significantly older, sat at the table, faces almost touching as they leaned over a tablet. They looked vaguely familiar but he shrugged it off, figuring they’d come in before but he’d just never had to serve them.

“Extra bagel?” Bucky asked, smothering a laugh when they jumped in surprise and knocked their heads together.

“Yes! Yes, yeah, that’s us,” the younger one said, flushing in embarrassment. Bucky smiled at them and leaned down to put down the plate. His pendant fell out of the collar of his shirt and he froze when a hand blocked him from tucking it back into his shirt. The older woman pulled the pendant closer to her and, in turn, caused Bucky to almost fall onto the table. She turned it over and over in her fingers, tracing the wolf like she was trying to commit it to memory. Finally, she released the pendant and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

“What the fu-” Bucky’s next words were cut off as he was pulled into a hug as tight as a steel trap.

“Mom! Let him go! Oh my god,” the younger one exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and yanking her mother away from Bucky who just rubbed at his neck where the chain had rubbed and eyed them both warily. The mother had tears in her eyes and was patting frantically at her daughter’s hand.

“Becca, _look at the necklace_.” Becca did, squinting at Bucky’s pendant then pulling back in shock, mouth dropping open as her eyes flicked from his face to the pendant and back. Wordlessly, the mother took Bucky’s face in her hand, chasing after him when he tried to pull away, and looked him dead in the eye. “James?” Her voice shook as she stroked a thumb across his cheekbone. “Is it really you, sweetheart?” He didn’t respond, taking in every feature of her face, really looking at her for the first time since he’d approached the table. His mother was dead. He’d watched her burn. But there, along the side of her face, were severe burn scars that revealed themselves when her hair fell away. Her eyes were the same warm, brown color he remembered and her face looked the same as it always had despite the new lines that defined her mouth and eyes. He could smell the same perfume she’d worn every day and even let him try a few times.  Looking behind her at Becca, his Becca, his _little sister_ , he saw the same burns on the opposite side of her face and identical eyes to their mother that brimmed with tears.

“Ma? Becca?” He finally asked, voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. She sniffled and pulled him into another hug that he returned as best he could one-armed. Someone hugged him from behind and he tensed before he realized that it was Becca burying her face in his shirt to hide her tears. Their warmth soothed an ache he hadn’t realized was there until now.

~~~~~~

 “We thought you were dead, Jamie. Dad was gone in the fire and we couldn’t find you anywhere,” Becca said, twirling the stirrer around in her coffee that Steve had quietly provided after they’d all calmed down some. His mother hummed in agreement, taking a sip of her own coffee before speaking.

“I assume you thought the same of us?” Bucky nodded. He hadn’t said anything to them yet, was still taking them in, still unsure if they were really here. His mother had said she'd pulled herself and Becca out of the fire but the part of him who'd watched them burn refused to let him believe her. After that the conversation trailed off into an awkward silence, none of them knowing what to say after so long apart. They quietly sipped their drinks and his mother watched him like a hawk, it was as if she thought he would disappear if she looked away. Bucky sat in Steve’s office chair, stiff-backed and hyperaware of their heartbeats, the comforting smell of the bakery, and the hissed, harried conversations of his friends in the hallway.

“What happened to your arm?” Becca asked suddenly, earning herself a slap on the arm followed by a scolding, “Becca!” from their mother.

“Um…a bear trap caught it. On a hike,” Bucky said awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. Becca frowned in confusion but his mother squinted at him over the rim of her mug, taking him in for what must have been the hundredth time in an hour. Except this time she seemed to be looking for something, an intent in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. Her short, sharp intake of breath when she looked in his eyes said she’d found what she’d been looking for and a spike of dread went through Bucky. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t possibly-

“When did he bite you?”

“What.”

She leaned her elbows on her knees and asked again, “When did he bite you?”

“Bite me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky said, scrambling for something, anything he could say to derail this line of conversation.

“Don’t lie to me, James. You know what I’m talking about, answer me.” Bucky shook his head, hard and stood up to leave.

“No, I don’t. I told you.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” his mother said, softening her tone. “Please don’t run away from me.” Becca asked what was going on but his mother shushed her. Bucky pressed his thumb to the pendant hard enough to break the skin. It healed in a matter of seconds and, with a steadying breath, he said quietly, “Eleven years ago.”

“After the fire,” she said, looking for an answer she already knew. Bucky nodded and, though her face remained calm, the mug in his mother’s hands shattered, spraying the carpet with black coffee and shards of porcelain. “I knew I have should have shot Pierce when I got the chance, the bastard.” Bucky’s head snapped up in shock.

“He said Pa hunted him, not…”

“He didn’t know about my part in it. We made sure of it.” 

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the little part in italics might be confusing but I'll explain: the reason Bucky's called himself Bucky in all the flashbacks is because he's looking back on what's happened from -for him- the present. So he's remembering Joey giving him the nickname which is why his name is "Bucky" and not "James" in the flashbacks. I hope no one was too confused!


	13. Steve

~~~~~~

When they got back to the apartment Bucky made a beeline to the couch. Steve hung up his coat then joined him.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. After Bucky’s mother - “Call me Winifred, honey”- and sister left the bakery with a promise to return after Bucky's shift the next day he hadn’t said a word, instead gathering his things, dodging everyone’s questions, and practically dragging Steve home.

“I..” Bucky stared down at the pendant he was turning over and over in his fingers. “I don’t know.”

“If nothing else, at least they’re alive.” Bucky nodded absently.

“I thought there was no way anyone could have survived that fire.” He pinched the muzzle of the little wolf in his hand and his voice began to sound strained. “But no. Apparently they’ve been here the whole time and I had no idea.”

“Bucky it’s okay, you had no way of knowing they were in Brooklyn,” Steve said, putting a steadying hand on his thigh. Bucky shook it off and stood, pacing beside the couch.

“I should’ve looked. Should’ve known to second-guess it. I should’ve done _something_ and _I didn’t_ , Steve, I did nothing! I just gave up!” With that he threw the pendant and it hit the bricks of the fireplace with a clatter, tearing multiple sketches on its way to the floor.

“Bucky, hey, calm down,” Steve said quickly, jumping up from his seat. Bucky’s breaths were labored and he flinched when Steve pressed the pendant back into his shaking hand. Bucky's eyes were squeezed shut but, as he slowly came down from the adrenaline rush, he opened them. He made a dismayed sound when he saw the strips of paper hanging off the fireplace. 

“Oh no, your sketches. Steve I’m so sorry I’ll find the tape, something to fix it…” The anger was gone, replaced by panicked guilt and he twisted around, looking for Steve’s box of art supplies. Steve’s stomach turned at the distress in Bucky’s voice.

“No, no, it’s okay-Bucky-they’re fine, I promise.”

“But I-”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, pulling him around to face him. “I don’t care about the sketches. Take a breath.” Bucky bit his lip, hard, and looked down at the floor. “I know today was a lot but tonight is going to be easy, I promise. I’ll make dinner and then we’re both going to bed early, got it?”

“…Got it.”

“Good. So, soup or pasta?”

~~~~~~

At two in the morning soft footsteps and the rustle of cloth in the hallway snapped Steve awake. Keeping the parts of his body not covered by the bed lax as if he was still asleep he slowly slid his hand under his pillow, grasping the handle of the bowie knife he kept there, a habit he picked up overseas. The footsteps stopped in the doorway to his bedroom and Steve slowed his breathing, waiting for any reason to pull out the knife.

“Steve?” It was Bucky. Releasing the knife with a sigh he rolled over and peered through the dark at Bucky.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” His face was hard to make out but his hands were twitchy and he couldn’t seem to decide how to hold himself.

“Nightmare?” Steve asked, recognizing the behavior. When he first came back from the war he barely slept for months; it took Natasha practically shoving a regimen of sleeping pills down his throat and sometimes joining him in the bed to get him to properly rest. Maybe he couldn’t help with Bucky’s family or furry problems but this was definitely something he knew how to handle. At Bucky’s nod he scooted over to the cold side of the bed and pulled back the covers. “Get in.”

“What? No.”

“Look. I always liked having someone there for me after a nightmare, the bed’s warm, and I won’t touch you unless you give me permission. Now. Will you join me?” He shook the sheets a little at the last part. Bucky hesitated then shuffled around to the side of the bed, climbed in carefully, and pulled the sheets up to his chin, curling up so he took up as little of the bed as possible. Steve settled back onto his stomach with his head turned so he could see Bucky. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight,” Bucky whispered, the sheets rustling as he pulled them tighter around himself.  

When they fell asleep Bucky was practically hanging off the edge of the bed and stiff as a board. He must have relaxed during the night because, when Steve woke up, Bucky was sprawled across all of his side of the bed and there was barely any space between them. Bucky’s hand brushed Steve’s hip and his face was smushed against part of Steve's pillow. Steve stayed in bed for as long as he could, not wanting to wake Bucky up. Eventually, however, the urge to pee was too great and he had to get up. He cheered quietly to himself when he made it out of the bed and to the door without even a twitch from Bucky.

~~~~~~

They didn't talk about it when Bucky woke up; but if they stood a little closer and if their hands brushed more than before neither of them said anything. 

~~~~~~

“You’ll be fine, I promise,” Steve assured him, sitting on the stool behind the counter as he watched Bucky fuss with his hair in the mirror of the small staff bathroom.

“I hope so,” Bucky said, poking his head into the hallway. “Do I look okay?”

“It’s not a date, Buck, it’s your family. I think they care more about just getting to spend time with you than how your hair looks.” Bucky sighed and nodded as he fiddled with the lapels of his coat one more time. “Besides, they’ve already seen you wearing an apron with a cartoon bagel on it. Anything else is a step up from that in my opinion.”

“Those aprons were your idea, asshole.”

“Actually they were Natasha's and if you tell her what I said you’d better hope she kills you before I do. She loves that bagel and far be it from me to tell her how tacky it is.”

The chime of the bells on the door cut him off and Bucky hurriedly checked every button one last time before going to greet Winifred and Becca. Steve watched as they walked out into the dim street, walking so close together their shoulders were almost bumping with each step. Bucky flashed a wide grin at something Becca said and then they disappeared around a corner. Steve hadn’t seen Bucky smile like that. Ever. He pushed down the surge of jealousy and started to lock up, telling himself he had no right to feel that way. Sure they were close but if Bucky didn't want to be as open as Steve would like that was his perogative, especially after all he'd been through. 

What he couldn’t push away, however, were his thoughts as he wiped down the tables with what was probably more force than necessary.

_Why couldn’t it have been me who made him look like that._

~~~~~~


	14. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the end of the flashbacks for Bucky! The rest of the fic will be written completely in the present :)

 

~~~~~~

Becca and his mother both kissed him on the cheek, whispering heartfelt goodbyes and promises to come see him when they could and drove away in a cab. Bucky waved long after the car disappeared into the dark. He may have looked like an idiot but he didn't care. He'd just spent five hours with his mother and sister, the world could be on fire and it wouldn't dampen his good mood. Inside the pizzeria he could see the wait staff staring at him. He waved at them too and walked away, a smile on his face so big it made his cheeks ache. The moon was hidden behind a few clouds but the rest of the sky was full of bright stars that lit his way back to the bakery. 

He almost went back to Steve's apartment but he knew Steve was already asleep and didn’t want to wake him up when there was a perfectly good place to sleep in his office. Humming, he pulled out the key to the back door that Steve had given him months ago and went to put it in the lock, frowning when he saw that it was already open. Steve left just after he did and Lacy always checked the lock at night. There was no reason for it to be open. Closer inspection revealed splintered wood around the lock and long scratches on the metal, like it'd been kicked open. His frown deepened and he cautiously pushed it open and sniffed the air. A familiar, bitter scent tinged with sulfur filled the hallway and he ground his teeth, eyes flashing. Rumlow. It had been at least an hour since he’d been in the building but Bucky could still trace his steps all the way up to the loft where the door hung open and off its hinges. The windows were smashed open and streaks of blood that smelled of the twins lined the floor and were smeared across the broken glass. Bucky ran to a window and leaned out, trying to catch the scent. It was even fainter out in the alley, covered by the dumpsters and the smells of the city but he still jumped out the window and followed it.

He ran down the empty streets and flames of rage licked at his skin, fueling him.  

This was going to end. Tonight.

~~~~~~

Eventually he reached an unfamiliar stretch of brownstones in various states of disarray. Vines covered the rusting metal fences and unruly rose bushes sat in between each door, the flowers poking out into the sidewalk. The one directly in front of Bucky was one of the oldest with cracked windows and crumbling front steps. The door was open a crack but there was no light coming from inside. As he walked up the steps his boots covered dots of dried blood that decorated the bricks. He headed straight for the closed door at the end of the narrow hallway. Inside he could hear Lacy whimpering quietly and the scent of blood burned his nose. He tried the doorknob and it jiggled but refused to open, whether it was locked or stuck he couldn’t tell. A few more tugs and nothing. Giving up he backed up and rushed the door, the impact of his shoulder against the thin wood enough to smash it and he almost fell through and on top of the twins.

Rough rope tied them together, leaving bright red marks on their skin. Joey was slumped over, unconscious, hair hiding some of his face but not enough to hide the blood trickling down his face from his temple. The only thing keeping them from falling over was Lacy bracing herself against the floor as best she could. She was barely awake, eyelids fluttering and mouth moving in what looked like a silent prayer. Her sleep shirt was ripped, revealing a bloody bite mark that covered her entire shoulder.

Bucky moved to untie them but stopped when he spotted another body on the ground, hidden just under the window so the light wouldn’t hit it. Bucky got closer and pulled it out into the light to inspect it. He dropped the arm like it was on fire when the moonlight illuminated the angles of Rumlow’s face and the rough edges of his scars. His jaw was slack, mouth open in a silent scream, and blood coated his chest and neck from his throat. Shredded skin outlined long, deep claw marks that severed the arteries in Rumlow’s neck; he’d bled out too quickly for his healing factor to play catch up. Whoever did it knew what they were doing.

Bucky kicked Rumlow’s body back out of the light, looking away from the blood trail he left on the floor. Someone moved behind him and he jumped. He felt the sting of a needle at the base of his neck and the world seemed to melt away as he slumped back into a scarily familiar hold.

~~~~~~

Bucky blinked groggily, shaking his head roughly as the dim walls around him came into focus. He heard footsteps but he couldn’t summon up enough energy to look over at the source.

“I finally caught the traitor,” Alpha said sweetly, circling Bucky until he was standing right in front of him. He looked him up and down and shook his head. “You’ve gone soft, clearly I’m going to have to start from scratch with you. One little dose of wolfsbane and you’re down for the count. What a shame.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“Whas’ goin’ on,” Bucky slurred, struggling to push himself up off the floor.

“You’re mine again.” Alpha put a boot on his chest and shoved him back down. “And you’re going to stay that way.”

The last thing he saw was a smug smile before another wolfsbane dose was pushed into his neck.

~~~~~~

Hours later the wolfsbane haze wore off and as he came to he took in his surroundings. He slowly registered that he was in a windowless van, Lacy was next to him, and Joey was nowhere to be found. The road was smooth in some places and in others it rocked and jerked so much Bucky thought they might flip.

The van shuddered to a stop on what sounded like a gravel road and the front door opened. Footsteps crunched along the side of van and the doors were flung open. Bucky instinctively shut his eyes against the sudden bright light and kicked out as someone hauled him out of the van. He landed on the ground with a thud and a groan.

“Get up,” Alpha said. Bucky rolled until he got his knees under him and, muscles straining, stood up. His arm was tied tightly behind his back which restricted all of his movement.

“Welcome home,” Alpha said, gesturing to the ruins before them with a wide, all-encompassing sweep of his arm. Tall trees still marked with burn scars towered over them at all sides and the wind whipped through them, blowing through what used to be the pack house. Wood stuck out at all directions from the charred mess and the door hung open and off one hinge. Alpha pulled Lacy out into the clearing and stood her next to Bucky.

Now wide awake she stared at the house then at Bucky. Her eyes were full of fear as she whispered, “Where are we?”

Bucky tried to respond but Alpha tugged them into the house and kicked the door shut, enveloping them in total darkness. He left them locked in Bucky's old room. The small window was now mostly boarded over but small points of early morning light still made it through, illuminating the layers of dust and soot that covered every surface. Bucky lay on his bed next to Lacy, staring up at the ceiling he'd hoped to never see again.

"Welcome to hell."

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry please don't kill me I swear there's a happy ending. Honest.


	15. Steve

~~~~~~

Steve’s alarm blared to life right in his ear, shrill chimes that he swore were causing him to go deaf. He slapped the off button and crawled out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Usually he was a morning person, beating his alarm and out of the house five minutes before he had to be. But he’d stayed up late into the night, his nerves keeping him awake. He knew it was ridiculous but sleeping without Bucky in the apartment seemed strange to him and made him anxious. Eventually his eyelids shut of their own accord and he unwillingly fell into a troubled sleep.

Halfway through making coffee he stopped short, coffee dripping down the sides of the pot and onto the counter. Something was wrong. He turned slowly around and looked into the living room.

Bucky wasn’t on the couch. He wasn’t anywhere in the apartment.

He wasn’t at the bakery either but the back door was wide open. Natasha still had an hour before her shift started so it wasn’t her who’d opened it. The twins were never awake this early. Heart pounding, he knocked on the twins’ door. Silence. He tested the doorknob and it turned. He clicked it open and pushed, clapping a hand over his mouth at the sight before him.

Broken, bloody glass littered the floor and the cold wind whistled through the now pane-less windows. Joey lay in the middle of the mess, curled into himself, shaking, and covered in blood. Lacy was nowhere to be seen.

“Joey!” Steve exclaimed, navigating his way through the glass to Joey.

Joey’s voice was hoarse and trembling like it pained him to speak.

“Help me.”

Steve put his arm around him and helped him to stand, letting him lean almost all of his weight on him. Joey’s feet dragged on the floor as they walked and his head kept lolling to the side and smearing blood on Steve’s shoulder though he managed to keep his eyes open enough to see where they were going. They made their way out the door and down the stairs, eventually reaching Steve’s office. Steve sat him down on the couch and put all the pillows he could find underneath him for support.

“Breathe through it and let me call an ambulance.”

“No!” Joey shook his head as best he could and pulled up his shirt to reveal four, long slashes that crossed his abdomen from ribcage to hipbone. They were very clearly claw marks. “We live in the middle of Brooklyn. They’ll ask questions.” Steve blew out a long breath and put his phone away.

Shit.

~~~~~~

“Can you help us?” Steve asked, fingers tapping out hasty patterns on the wood of his desk.

“I’ve been out of the business for so long…” Winifred trailed off, looking down at Joey. He wore a fresh shirt and a thick bandage covered most of his right side, a poultice beneath the cloth protecting him from infection.

Steve thanked his lucky stars she’d been willing to come at such a late hour. The second he called her and mentioned Bucky’s disappearance she had dropped everything and rushed to the bakery. He had no one else to turn to and she’d pulled him into a long, comforting hug before fixing up Joey. Now she stood in the middle of his office, hands covered in blood, hair a mess, and clothes rumpled. She looked tired but he saw a determined gleam in her eyes.

“I’ve been out but he took my son from me again. Pierce is dangerous and it’s about time he got what he deserved. ” She put her hands on her hips and looked at Steve. “Let’s get started, there’s no point in waiting.” He nodded and she pulled a folding chair over to him and sat down, leaning forward and steepling her fingers underneath her chin.

“Our best starting point is the old pack territory in the Susquehannock State Forest. It was burned down years ago but Pierce’s always been one for tradition and if Joey’s right and he bit Lacy he could be trying to rebuild his pack. If he is he’ll want to train her in the same place as his previous betas. No matter what state it’s in.”

“But if he’s rebuilding his pack then why did he leave Joey here instead of biting him?”

“Joey was a distraction. It gave Pierce a headstart.”

“But why is he doing this now? He’s had so many opportunities.” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

“He may be traditional but he’s never been very predictable. There’s any number of things that could be motivating him, but there’s no way to know for sure unless we ask him directly.”

Steve clenched his jaw and stared hard at a hole in his jeans. They were up against a werewolf with a mean streak a mile wide and they had no idea what they were getting into. Great. They were all going to die. Winifred kicked his foot to get his attention. “Hey. Look at me. We haven’t lost them forever. We’ll get them back. We’ll get _him_ back.”

~~~~~~

A freshly printed out map completely covered Steve’s desk. A line of red marker led from Brooklyn to a the Susquehannock State Forest. In the middle of the green mass was a big circle labeled “TERRITORY.”

“If we leave now we can make it there before nightfall and, trust me, you don’t want to fight in the dark. We have enough of a disadvantage being human.” Natasha took the marker from Winifred and scribbled “5 hrs” along their route. Steve had tried to protest letting her come but both she and Winifred had given him The Look and he’d backed down. She’d saved his ass more times than he could count when they were in the army. He was terrified of losing her but she’d be an asset and the most important thing was finding Lacy and Bucky.

Winifred pointed to another place on the map, and then another. “As far as I know he still owns an apartment here and a few warehouses over there. We should try those first since they’re closer.” Two more lines were drawn and labeled “1 hr” and “5 mins” respectively.

“Steve we’re taking your truck,” Natasha said. “The motorcycle won’t cut it.”

“It needs gas.”

“That’s fine, I’ll pay.”

He didn’t contribute much to the conversation after that, letting them handle the planning while he tried hard not to spiral. Bucky was gone, Lacy was gone, Joey was badly injured, and Steve couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He had no idea if they were dead or alive, how badly they were hurt, or where they were.

Steve sat on the floor and pressed himself between the wall and the side of the couch, resting his head on his knees to try and block out some of the stimulus. It didn’t help. Natasha and Winifred kept talking, words overlapping in a loud rush, and the marker was scratching incessantly and Bucky was _still out there_ and he. Couldn’t. Breathe-

“In and out, Steve, in and out.” Joey awkwardly patted at his knee. He was barely conscious but he still managed to find Steve’s hand and hold it, squeezing his fingers weakly. “It’ll be okay, old man,” he muttered, eyelids already slipping shut again. Steve huffed a small laugh and squeezed his fingers back. His chest was still heaving and his limbs were tight and he couldn’t look up yet but Joey’s hand was warm and he could hear him breathing strong and steadily.

Maybe he could do this. 

~~~~~~


	16. Bucky

~~~~~~

Lacy fell asleep with her face buried in Bucky’s shoulder, her tears soaking the fabric of his jacket and some of her exhaustion bled over, making his eyelids droop. Bucky fought it, refusing to sleep. He didn’t know what he was waiting for but he wouldn’t be caught by surprise, not when Lacy was depending on him. He forced his eyes open and kept his hand on Lacy's arm as if that simple action would keep her safe. 

Hours later Alpha still hadn’t come to get them.  

Bucky couldn’t figure out his game. He clearly had a reason for taking them but nothing had clued Bucky in to what it was. He’d pretty much ruled out needing betas. Rumlow’s pale, bloody face was burned into Bucky’s memory, proving that Alpha didn’t care about pack, not if he killed his second. Bucky hadn't smelled any other wolves on the property and the forest looked undisturbed. He was clueless and he hated it. Without information he was truly helpless, couldn’t start to make an  plan. He hoped to god Steve had realized what was going on or they were well and truly fucked. 

~~~~~~

It started with a few, quiet whimpers. He brushed it off as a nightmare, which, under the circumstances, was perfectly understandable. They didn’t stop, evolving into low whines and then even lower growls.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky said, pushing Lacy off his shoulder. She rolled over, facing away from him. Her body shook and the growls were stuttered, tinged with pain. “Lacy?” A whine. “If you can, focus on my words, I promise the distraction will help.” She nodded jerkily and tried to roll back over to face him but her body spasmed and Bucky heard the first, ominous rip of cloth as her shoulder blades bulged out from her back, stretching the fabric of her shirt dangerously. He backed off the bed and kept going until he hit the wall, giving her plenty of room. Grotesque cracks filled the air as she bent and twisted, tangling herself up in previously tightly tucked in sheets. She screamed and didn’t stop, Bucky’s heart breaking more with every passing second. It shifted from a scream to a howl that reverberated in the room and Bucky could swear echoed against the trees around them.

With one final, hideous snap the shift finished and she lay on the bed, breathing heavily and not moving. Her coat was thick and brown with redder patches. She was much smaller than Bucky, only taking up a quarter of the bed. Bucky slowly peeled himself off the wall and approached the bed, running a gentle and comforting hand across her sweaty side. She started shaking again but it wasn’t from pain. Bucky climbed up to lay next to her, rubbing her ears and letting her bury her muzzle in his shirt, taking the same comfort from touch she did in her human form.

“It’ll be alright. I’m right here.” She licked his arm sadly and he pressed his face to the soft fur on the top of her forehead, letting her use his scent to ground herself.

They didn’t stay like that for long. Alpha’s footsteps sounded in the hallway, making Lacy’s hackles rise. She pulled her lips back over her teeth, jumping up and whipping around to face the door as it opened, her small frame covering Bucky in a protective stance.

Alpha grabbed her by her scruff and dragged her out of the way, pushing two syringes of wolfsbane into Bucky’s neck. Bucky scrabbled at the needles, cursing, but it was too late, he could feel the burning of the poision as it ran through his veins. Fuck. Even if he made it out of this alive he might die from the wolfsbane building up in his bloodstream. He coughed and watched through blurry eyes as Alpha pulled Lacy out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind them, leaving Bucky in total darkness again. An agonized howl followed him into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a ridiculously short one and I'm sorry, I promise the next one will be longer!
> 
> Sidenote: We're close to the end!


	17. Steve

 

~~~~~~

The air in the truck was tense. Natasha had been polishing the same knife for a good hour and, in the back, Winifred hadn’t turned the page in her book in twice as long. Steve’s fingers ached from the white-knuckled grip he had on the wheel but he didn’t have it in him to relax them. They were two hours out from Pierce’s old territory and the wheel was keeping him from vibrating out of his seat with anxiety.

Duffels with food, water, medical supplies, some of Winifred’s herbs, and any number of weapons sat in the bed of the truck, rattling whenever Steve hit a particularly large pothole.  The closer they got to their destination the rougher the road became and the more racket their supplies made. Winifred made him pull over before they entered the forest and grabbed the bags, shoving them under the seats to secure them.

“He’ll hear that a mile away and we won’t stand a chance.” They drove a good way in and parked, if they went any further they risked discovery. Natasha grabbed her gun and Steve slipped a knife in his pocket and one in his boot. His favorite knife that he usually kept under his pillow was safely in its sheath on his hip. Winifred stuffed wolfsbane in her pocket and holstered her own gun like she was preparing for war. 

Behind the trees the sun was setting, casting long shadows across their boots. Natasha was just loading her gun when they heard a long, high howl that cut off abruptly. Winifred cursed and started running, waving for them to follow.

~~~~~~

From their hiding place behind a few fallen trees Steve could just see Pierce’s home. It was little more than a charred mess, broken glass glittered in the fading light and walls bristling with the foliage that had claimed the house. The front steps sagged and the front door was splintered and worn but Steve quickly forgot about the house when who he assumed was Pierce by Winifred’s tensing stomped out of the house, dragging a small wolf behind him who was digging their claws into the wooden floorboards to try and resist him. He just tugged them forward and tossed them in front of him. The small wolf whined and shook their head, staggering like they were just learning how to use their legs.

“Defend yourself! Prove I made the right decision!” Pierce exclaimed, advancing. The wolf growled warningly but backed away, tail low to the ground. “Don’t make me go back for the other one.” At that the wolf snarled and leapt. He laughed and side-stepped them, whacking them out of the air with one clawed hand.

“Tell me that’s not Lacy,” Steve hissed, watching in horror as the wolf tried again but was once again brushed aside. Blood already stained some of their fur where Pierce’s claws had caught them and they were breathing hard, panting.

“I’m afraid so,” Winifred muttered. Steve made to stand up but an iron grip on his knee stilled him.

“Don’t. You. Dare. We move when Winifred says so.” Natasha dug her nails in enough to make him bite back a yelp and released him when he settled back against the tree. “Good.”

They heard Lacy yip in pain and Steve’s gaze snapped back to the clearing, eyebrows drawing together as he watched Pierce pick her up by her jaw and shake her. “Pull yourself together. If you don’t, you die. Don’t make me sorry I turned you.” Pierce started to say something else but froze, cocking his head to the side, listening. A second later something rustled in the bushes beside Winifred. She shuffled back and pointed her gun in the direction of the noise. A sleek, gray wolf stalked out of the bushes, barely sparing the three of them a glance as she passed. Steve scanned the tree line and watched as ten more wolves emerged from the cover of the woods, all heading straight for Pierce.

Pierce cursed and backed up against the house, holding Lacy in front of him like some sort of shield. The biggest wolf walked right up to him, shifting as he went. Black fur melted into dark skin and he stood up from a crouch to face Pierce. The new werewolf was a head taller than Pierce and looked down at him with a disgusted expression on his face. Winifred lowered her gun and huffed out a quiet chuckle when she saw his face.

“You won’t even fight like an Alpha. Instead you hide behind a pup who’s not even a day old.” He scoffed.

“Get off my land,” Pierce spat, tightening his grip on Lacy’s jaw, the other hand dangerously close to her neck. The other alpha - at least, Steve assumed he was an alpha - rolled his eyes.

“We’ve given you plenty of time to leave. You have no more pack and therefore no more rights to pack land. If I have to kill you I will but please make this easier on yourself.”

“You’ll have to go through me if you want it.”

“Really not a problem.” The other alpha plucked Lacy out of Pierce’s grip, dropped her behind him, and shoved Pierce into the wall, causing splinters to fly and the structure to creak ominously. “You killed your best beta, your last line of defense. On your own you’re nothing.”

“Rumlow was one of yours, he wasn't my beta anymore,” Pierce said angrily, shoving at the other alpha’s arm.

“Ah, yes. I suppose that would’ve proved to be rather problematic for you.” He grinned. “What a shame.” With that he twisted his fist around Pierce’s neck and Pierce fell to the ground with a sickening crack, head lolling on the fallen leaves. The other alpha hummed, wiped his hand on his pants, and snapped his fingers. Two wolves trotted forward, grabbed a leg each, and pulled Pierce’s body into the woods. The other alpha knelt in front of Lacy who was cowering under the front porch, ears flat against her head, and tail tucked in between her legs. “You can come out now, I won’t hurt you.” She just backed further under the house and continued watching him like a hawk. He sighed and, without turning around, called out, “You three can stop hiding, I know you’re there. Come fetch your pup.”

Steve almost fell over in surprise, making Natasha shove a hand behind his back to keep him upright. Winifred rolled her eyes and holstered her gun – Steve noted that she kept the clasp loose, however – and stepped over the tree, marching straight into the clearing.

“Well hello, Malachi.”

“Hello, Win.” He cocked his head. “What business do you have here? I thought you left hunting.”

“Pierce has…” she glanced into the trees where the betas had taken the body. “Pierce  _had_ my son, we came to get him back.” She nodded at Malachi. “You just saved us a whole lot of trouble.”

“I live to serve,” he said sarcastically. He looked over her shoulder and pointed at Steve and Natasha and then to the front door. “He’s upstairs.” Steve nodded and practically bowled over Natasha as he sprinted towards the house.

Only two rooms were still intact on the upper floors and one was missing a door. The other was locked but with a few, good shoves Steve burst through, covering his face to protect it from the wood shards. He shook the soot out of his hair and shirt and made a beeline for the small bed in the center of the room. It was dark but Steve could just make out the outline of Bucky’s body on the thin mattress. His legs hung over the edge of the bed and his hand was limp against his neck, like he had been trying to keep himself from choking. Two, empty syringes had been tossed carelessly by Bucky's face and Steve's anger grew tenfold as he connected the dots. The bastard drugged him. Bucky didn’t stir when Steve slipped his arms under his shoulders and knees and lifted him up, carrying him down the stairs and out the door, making sure to kick the door to the room he'd found him in shut.

The conversation in the clearing stopped abruptly when Steve walked into the clearing with Bucky in his arms, limbs hanging loose like a doll with all its strings cut. Winifred pressed a hand to her mouth and looked from Steve to Bucky and back, a silent question hanging in the air. Steve shook his head and she sagged in relief. Malachi put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in, whispering something as his betas disappeared back into the forest.

“He’s giving us time to leave,” Winifred said when Steve frowned, watching Malachi as he shifted back into a wolf and sat on the porch of the house, observing them with glittering golden eyes. Natasha nodded at him in thanks and led them back towards their truck, a still shaking Lacy glued to her side and sending reproachful looks towards the house. Steve tightened his hold on Bucky, comforting in the solid weight of him and the rise and fall of his chest. Comforting in the proof that he was still alive.

~~~~~~

Lacy hadn’t shifted back yet and it'd been hours. Steve was getting concerned but Winifred reassured him that she was fine. “Her first shift was very traumatic, she’ll shift back when she’s ready. Right now she just needs her brother.” Said brother had his face buried in Lacy’s fur and as much of his body as he could manage through side wounds, bandages, and the cramped space of the couch cushions was pressed against hers. Upstairs, in the loft, Bucky was stretched out across the twins’ mattresses, covered in thick blankets. His breathing was less thready and his pulse was stronger but he still hadn’t woken up. Winifred said that was expected too but Steve couldn’t help but worry. He couldn’t fix Bucky or Lacy but he still felt guilty, still felt like he wasn’t doing enough.

In the hall Natasha was ranting quietly to herself about how she’d sharpened all of her favorite knives and hadn’t gotten to use a single one of them. Steve rolled his eyes then turned a curious look on Winifred. "How do you know that wolf...Malachi?"

“He’s one of the few alphas that respects hunters. He doesn’t mess with us we don’t mess with him. I’ve actually worked with him on a hunt before.” 

“But why was he there?” She took a long drink of her tea before answering.

“Wolves have a different definition of territory than humans do. For them you either earn your land or you lose it. In Malachi’s view Pierce wasn’t worthy of pack land, especially not as a lone alpha. It didn’t help that he used Lacy as a shield which marked him as a coward. An alpha that makes others do the fighting for them isn’t even worth spitting on. Malachi said he’d been planning on taking Pierce’s land for a while now but thought it was fun to play with him a little first. It was just luck that he chose tonight to do the deed.” Steve's attention was diverted when a thump came from the stairs. He rushed out to look but it was just Natasha putting the duffel of weapons back into storage. He sighed and went back to his seat, leaning the back of his head on the headrest. 

“What luck,” Steve said distantly, looking up the ceiling like he could see Bucky through the plaster and wood. Winifred patted his hand.

“Have faith in him. He'll come back to us. To you."

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter, as promised :)
> 
> I'm kind of sad because this is the last official chapter of the story. I will be posting an epilogue soon (and maybe writing a fluffy sequel) but this chapter marks the technical end. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, it means the world <3


	18. Bucky - Epilogue

~~~~~~

**1 year later.**

Steve rushed by Bucky, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he passed. His suit jacket was half on and his hair still wasn’t combed. Bucky clicked his tongue and fixed Steve’s hair as he finished putting on his clothes.

“Nat will kill me if I let you out of the house looking like that.”

“Thanks, Buck.”

“Don’t mention it. Now aren’t you going to be late?” Steve checked his watch and cursed. He pressed a real kiss to Bucky’s lips and bolted, the door swinging in his wake. Bucky sighed fondly and shut and locked the door, wandering back to the couch. Instead of his bed it was now his desk of sorts. Sticky notes covered in messy, scrawled dates and times were plastered across the coffee table and the wall. Like he did every morning, he peeked at the most recent one to check what was happening today. As he'd thought today was the grand opening of the new bakery location. Oh good, he wasn’t forgetting again.

The wolfsbane doses Pierce forced into his bloodstream did a shitton of damage to his body that included his mental processes as well as physical problems surrounding his shift. Around a month after the events in the clearing he started having blank spaces in his memory, times where he couldn’t remember where he’d been an hour ago. His mother knew a witch who’d majored in psychotherapy in college and she’d offered to give Bucky her card. Experienced as she was, even Ms. Maximoff couldn’t heal him completely. So sometimes he’d wake up not knowing where he was, who Steve was, or even who _he_ was. One time he’d been baking cookies and the next thing he knew Steve was holding him as he shook on the floor, shushing him and listing who Bucky was, the name of the bakery, what kind of cookies he’d been making, and who Steve was. Bucky hadn’t taken it well, shoving Steve away and avoiding him as best he could for a week after the incident.  Eventually Steve got the hint and started to distance himself from Bucky which resulted in a completely silent apartment and as little communication as possible during work hours. In the end it was Ms. Maximoff who told him, in no uncertain terms, to get his shit together and talk to Steve or he’d lose him.

Bucky’d walked up to Steve, shoved his favorite coffee under his nose, and said, “Sorry.” Steve took the coffee, put it down on the table beside him, and pulled Bucky into a kiss.

It was brief, the faintest pressure against Bucky’s lips before Steve let him go and, with a blush on his cheeks, said, “I missed you, don’t do that again.” Bucky licked his bottom lip, considered Steve, and kissed him again.

Bucky whispered into the kiss, “I won’t.”

Since they were already living together it wasn't hard to transition into a relationship. Only two weeks later Bucky moved into Steve’s room and they’d shared a bed ever since. The only noticeable change to their dynamic was that now they could kiss wherever they wanted to, much to the disgust of the twins. To quote Joey, "It's like watching my dads kiss."

The twins still worked at the bakery, along with the five new employees Steve had hired to staff the brand new location. It was a huge, abandoned art gallery that he and Natasha had bought and converted into a bakery with a full kitchen and plenty of seating space. It was only a little further away from their apartment than the original place so it was still an easy commute.

However, now that he had Bucky sleeping next to him, Steve was always reluctant to get out of bed which meant he was late more often than not. The morning of the opening Bucky had to literally pull Steve off the mattress to get him moving. Once he’d had his coffee Steve checked the clock and promptly freaked out, rushing around the apartment like a mad thing. Bucky just settled in to watch the show. He’d elected not to go to the celebrations, instead choosing to stay home and decorate for the after party for just him, Steve, Natasha, and the twins.

He scribbled out the time the after party was supposed to start, stuck it to the wall, and went to find wherever Steve had stored the decorations. The bag was buried in the closet and he pulled out the fairy lights, paint, brushes, and the blank banner. Laying it all out he set to work outlining the words on the banner and taping the fairy lights to the top edge. After all was said and done the “congratulations” looked rather wavy and the “done” was cramped up between the edge of the banner and the end of “well.”

So he wasn’t good at crafts, sue him. It’s the thought that counts, right?

~~~~~~

Steve had announced, very loudly, “My boyfriend is an artistic genius,” and planted a kiss on Bucky right in the middle of the living room. Steve may also have been a little tipsy from the champagne they’d served at the opening. He was a light-weight, bless him. Unfortunately for Bucky, Natasha, Joey, and Lacy were also tipsy and all raised the glasses of water that Bucky had forced on them and cheered Steve on, Natasha hooting before taking another sip of her drink. (Bucky was convinced she’d switched her water out for vodka but he wasn’t going to mention it.)

Bucky rolled his eyes affectionately and pushed Steve off gently, shaking his head as Steve giggled, and nuzzled him on the cheek.

~~~~~~

Bucky had never gotten the chance to experience party games before that night and, for once, he was grateful for the lack of experience.

 Joey had laid a “protective plastic sheet,” (which was really just the shower curtain he’d somehow stolen without anyone noticing) over the sticky notes on the coffee table, careful not to disturb them, and lined up red cups half full of beer on either side. He challenged Natasha to play “flip cup” with him. Winner got ten bucks.

When he said her name Steve almost spit out his beer he laughed so hard. He leaned into Bucky and whispered, “He’s so fucked.”

Natasha smiled, raised her beer, drained it, and stood up.

“Let’s do this.”

Bucky realized why Steve laughed when Natasha had one cup left and Joey was only three down. She flipped the last cup and it landed on the first try. Joey chugged the rest and when he was done he scowled at her. She only shrugged and stuck out her hand, wiggling her fingers expectantly. Joey huffed and made a show of taking out his wallet and taking out a ten dollar bill.

“Anyone else want to play?” Natasha asked innocently, pocketing the money. Everyone shook their heads vehemently.

~~~~~~

Cheers went up around the room when the pizza came. Joey grabbed a box and ran to hide in the bathroom, Lacy following him with shouts of, “That was my pepperoni you dick!”

The delivery guy raised his eyebrows in question but Bucky just closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head.

“Don’t ask.”

~~~~~~~~

Despite Bucky’s best efforts Joey and Lacy both ended up wasted, both leaning on Natasha for support as she walked out the door. Steve had passed out two hours ago and Bucky lay next to him, smiling as he rolled over and tucked Bucky under his arm, burying his nose in the side of Bucky’s neck. Out in the living room cups littered the floor and table, the shower curtain needed to go back up, and empty pizza boxes were stacked on the couch but Bucky decided to leave it for the morning. He was exhausted and Steve was warm, fuck cleaning.

As he drifted to sleep he thought back over the events of the day and realized something.

He was happy.

For the first time in a long time, with Steve beside him and his friends just down the road, he was happy.

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The official end. Thank you for taking this journey with me, especially those of you who read and commented on every chapter. Y'all made my days and I still go back and reread some if I'm feeling down. Sure it didn't get 100k hits and thousands of recommendations but it's one of my most well-received fics I've ever written and I've loved every second of the process because of you, the fandom. From the bottom of my little heart, thank you.
> 
> Also shout out to the amazing mods of the Stucky Big Bang 2016 who made this fic possible and another big shout out to the wonderful, talented bunnymaccool who made art for this fic which you can find [here](http://bunnymaccool.tumblr.com/post/147674231812/so-this-is-the-first-piece-of-artwork-ive-done).
> 
> <3<3<3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!<3<3
> 
> Stalk me on [Tumblr](http://wolfbarnes.tumblr.com/).


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